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JONES' 
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A  LITERARY 
PILGRIMAGE 

AMONG  THE  HAUNTS 
OF  FAMOUS  BRITISH 
AUTHORS  ,  /T/.   f  ' 


BY  THEODORE   F.  WOl 
M.D.   Ph.D. 

AUTHOR     OF     LITERARY     SHRINES      E  Ti 


J.  B.  LiFPlNCOTT   COMFAiNY 
PHILADELPHIA  MDCCCXCVII 

■/IOJJIhD     lO     ajTdAO 


Castle  of   Chillon 


A  LITERARY 
PILGRIMAGE 

AMONG  THE  HAUNTS 
OF  FAMOUS  BRITISH 
AUTHORS 


BY  THEODORE    F.  WOLFE 
M.D.   Ph.D. 

AUTHOR     OF     LITERARY     SHRINES     ETC. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 
PHILADELPHIA  MDCCCXCVII 


Copyright,  1895, 

BY 

Theodore   F.  Wolfe. 


Printed  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia,  U.S.A. 


t  o^ 

W23 


PREFACE 


'  I  "'HE  favor  with  which  a  few  articles  in  the 
periodical  press,  similar  to  those  herewith 
presented,  have  been  received  induces  the  hope 
that  the  present  volume  may  prove  acceptable. 
If  some  popular  literary  shrines  which  are 
inevitably  included  in  the  writer's  personal 
itinerary  are  herein  accorded  but  scant  notice, 
it  is  for  the  reason  that  they  have  been  already 
so  oft  described  that  portrayal  of  them  is 
therefore  purposely  omitted  from  this  account 
of  a  literary  pilgrimage :  even  Stratford-on- 
Avon  here  for  once  escapes  description.  How- 
ever, the  initial  paragraphs  of  these  chapters 
lightly  outline  a  series  of  literary  rambles  which 
the  writer  has  found  measurably  complete  and 
consecutive.  The  pilgrim  is  understood  to  make 
his  start  from  London. 

If  these  notes  of  his  sojourns  in  the  scenes 
hallowed  by  the  presence  of  British  authors  or 
embalmed  in  their  books  shall  prove  pleasantly 
reminiscent  to  some  who  have  fared  to  the  same 


Preface 

shrines,  or  helpfully   suggestiv?   to  others  who 
contemplate  such  pilgrimage,  then 

"  not  in  vain 
He  wore  his  sandal  shoon  and  scallop-shell." 

The  writer  is  indebted  to  the  publishers  of  thf 

Home  Journal  for  permission  to  reproduce  ol 

or    two  articles  which    have  appeared    in    that 

periodical. 

T.  F.  W. 


A  LITERARY  PILGRIMAGE 

TENTH     EDITION 


»:: ' 

BY  DR.  WOLFE 
Uniform  with  this  volume 

LITERARY    SHRINES 

THE    HAUNTS    OF    SOME    FAMOUS    AMERICAN 
AUTHORS 

Treating  descriptively  and  reminiscently  of  the 
scenes  amid  ivhich  Haivthorne,  Longfelhio, 
fVhittiery  Emerson,  and  many  other  American 
authors  lived  and  lurote 

223    pages.       Illustrated    with    four 
photogravures.      $1.25 

A  LITERARY   PILGRIMAGE  AND  LITERARY  SHRINES 

Two  volumes  in  a  box,  ij2.50 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Literary  Hampstead  and  Highgate. 
Haunt  of  Dlckens-Steele-Pope-Keats-BaUUe-Johnion 
~Hunt-Akenside-Shelley-Hogarth-Addison-Rich- 
ardson-Gay-Besant-Du   Maurier-Cokridge,    etc. 
-Grave  of  George  Eliot 1 3 

By  Southwark  and  Thames-Side  to  Chel- 
sea. 
Chaucer  -  Shakespeare  -  Dickens-JValpole-Pepys-Eliot- 
Rossetti  -  Carlyle  -  Hunt-Gay-Smollett  -  Kingsley- 
Herbert  -  Dorset-Addison  -  Shaftesbury-Locke-Bo- 
Ungbroke— Pope-Richardson,  etc.     ......    •       24 

The  Scene  of  Gray's  Elegy. 
The   Country   Church-Yard-Tomb  of  Gray-Stoke- Pogis 
Church-Reverie  and  Reminiscence-Scenes  of  Mil- 
ton-Waller-Porter-Coke-Denham 39 

DicKENSLAND :    Gad's  Hill  and  about. 
Chaucer's    Pilgrims -Falstaf -Dickens' s  Abode-Study- 
Grounds'-Walks-Neighbors-Guests-Scenes  of  Tales 
-  Cob  ham  -  Rochester  -  Plp'  s    Church-  Yard  -  Satis 

House,  etc 49 

7 


Contents 

FAGB 

Some  Haunts  of  Bvron. 

Birthplace-London  Homes- Murray^ s  Book- Store— Kensal 
Green— Harroiv-Byron'' s  Tomb-His  Diadem  Hill— 
Abode  of  his  Star  of  Annesley— Portraits-Mementos       6a 

The  Home  of  Childe  Harold. 

Ne'wstead-Byron^  s  Apartments— Relics  and  Reminders- 
Ghosts- Ruins -T/te  young  Oak- Dog's  Tomb  — 
De-vil  's  ffood—  Irving  —  Livingstone  —  Stanley  — 
Joaquin  Miller 8o 

Warwickshire  :  the  Loamshire  of  George 
Eliot. 

Miss  Mulock  —  Butler-Someraiile-Dyer-Rugby-Homes 
of  George  Eliot- Scenes  of  Tales-Chcverel—Shepper- 
ton-Milly's  Grave- Paddiford-Mi/by-  Coventry, 
etc.— Characters-Incidents gi 

Yorkshire  Shrines  :  Dotheboys  Hall  and 

ROKEBY- 

Village  of  Bo-wes-Dickens-Squeers" s  School— The  Master 

and  his  Family-Haunt  of  Scott Io6 

Sterne's  Sweet  Retirement. 

Sutton  -  Crazy  Castle  -  Yorick '  s  Church  -  Parsonage  — 
Where  Tristram  Shandy  and  the  Sentimental 
"Journey  ivere  tvritten-Reminiscences-Neivhurgh 
Hail-Where  Sterne  died-Sepulchre Ill 

Haworth  and  the  Brontes. 
The   Village-Black  Bull  Inn-Church-Vicarage-Mem- 
ory-haunted    Rooms -Bronte    Tomb— Moors— Bronte 


Contents 

PAca 
Cascade-  Wuthering    Heights  -  Humble    Friends  - 
Relic  and  Recollection lai 

Early  Haunts  or  Robert  Collyer  :  Eugene 
Aram. 
Childhood  Home-Ilkky  Scenes,  Friends,  Smithy,  Chapel- 
Bolton  -Associations  -  fVordsiuorth  -Rogers  -Eliot- 
Turner  -  Aram' s    Homes -Schools -Place    of   the 
Murder-Gibbet-Probable  Innocence 1 36 

Home  or  Sydney  Smith. 
Heslington-Foston,    Tivel-ve    Miles   from    a    Lemon— 
Church-Rector''  s    Head-Study-Room-of-all-ioork- 
Grounds  -  Guests  -  Uni-versal    Scratcher  -  Immortal 
Chariot— Reminiscences 14^ 

NiTHSDALE  Rambles. 
Scott-Hogg- Wordsivorth-  Carlyle" s  Birthplace-Homes— 
Gra've- Burns' s     Haunts  — Tomb-jfeanie     Deans- 
Old  Mortality,  etc.-Annie   Laurie's    Birthplace- 
Habitation— Poet-Lover— Descendants      161 

A  Niece  of  Robert  Burns. 
Her  Burnsland  Cottage— Reminiscences  of  Burns-Relics— 
Portraits  -  Letters  —  Recitations  —  Account    of    hit 
Death-Memories  of  his  Home— Of  Bonnie  Jean- 
Other  Heroines 181 

Highland  Mary  :  her  Homes  and  Grave. 
Birthplace—  Personal  Appearance-Relations  to  Burns- 
Abodes  :     Mauchline,     Coilsfield,    etc.  —  Scenes    of 
Courtship    and    Parting-Mementos-Tomb    by    the 

Clyde 194 

9 


Contents 

PAGB 

Bronte  Scenes  in  Brussels. 
School—  Class-Rooms  —  Dormitory  —  Garden  —  Scenes    and 
E-vents  of  Villette  and   The  Professor-M.  Paul- 
Madame    Beck— Memories   of  the   Bronte's— Confes- 
sional—Grave  of  Jessy  Yorke 207 

Leman's  Shrines. 
Beloved  of  Litterateurs— Gibhon—D' ^ubigne— Rousseau- 
Byron  —  Shelley  —  Dickens,    etc.— Scenes    of    Childe 
Harold— Nowvelle    Helo'ise— Prisoner    of    Chillon— 
Land  of  Byron 226 

Chateaux  or  Ferney  and  Coppet. 

Voltaire' s  Home,  Church,  Study,  Garden,  Relics-Liter- 
ary Court  of  de  Sta'el— Mementos-Famous  Rooms, 
Guests  —  Schlegel  —  Shelley— Constant— Byron— Davy, 
etc.—De  StaePs  Tomb 238 


10 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGB 

Castle  of  Chillon       Front'uphce. 

Stoke-Pogis  Church  and  Church-Yard 45 

Newstead  Abbey 81 

Home  of  Annie  Laurie 177 


LITERARY    HAMPSTEAD  AND 
HIGHGATE 

Haunt  of  Dickens-Steele-Pope-Keats-Baillie-yohnson-Hunt 
—Akenside-Shelley  -Hogarth— Addison— Richardson-Gay— 
Besant  —  Du  Maurier  —  Coleridge,  etc.— Grave  of  George 
Eliot. 

'  I  ^HE  explorations  which  first  brought  re- 
novvn  to  the  immortal  Pickwick  were 
made  among  the  uplands  which  border  the  val- 
ley of  the  Thames  at  the  north  of  London :  the 
illustrious  creator  of  Pickwick  loved  to  wander 
in  the  same  region  through  the  picturesque 
landscapes  he  made  the  scenes  of  many  incidents 
of  his  fiction,  and  the  literary  prowler  of  to-day 
can  hardly  find  a  ramble  more  to  his  mind  than 
that  from  the  former  home  of  Dickens  or  George 
Eliot  by  Regent's  Park  to  Hampstead,  and  thence 
through  the  famous  heath  to  Highgate.  The 
way  traverses  storied  ground  and  teems  with  his- 
toric associations,  but  these  are,  for  us,  lessened 
and  subordinated  by  the  appeal  of  memories  of 
the  famous  authors  who  have  loved  and  haunted 
this  delightful  region,  and  have  imparted  to  it 
the  tenderest  charm.  The  acclivity  of  Hamp- 
stead has  measurably  resisted  the  encroachment 
of  London,  and  has  deflected  the  railroads  with 
their  disturbing  tendencies,  so  that  this  old  town 
probably  retains  more  of   its  ancient  character 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

than  any  other  of  the  near  suburbs,  and  some 
of  its  quaint  streets  would  scarcely  be  more 
quiet  if  they  lay  a  hundred  miles  away  from  the 
metropolis.  Off  the  highway  by  which  we 
ascend  the  hill,  we  find  many  evidences  of  an- 
tiquity, old  streets  lined  by  rows  of  plain  and 
sedate  dwellings  wearing  an  air  of  dignified 
sobriety  which  is  not  of  this  century,  and 
which  is  in  grateful  contrast  with  the  pert  arti- 
ficiality of  the  modern  fabrics  of  the  vicinage. 
Many  old  houses  are  draped  with  ivy  or 
shrouded  by  trees  of  abundant  foliage ;  some 
are  shut  in  by  depressing  brick  walls,  over  which 
float  the  perfumes  of  unseen  flowers.  A  few 
of  the  older  streets  lie  in  perpetual  crepuscule, 
being  vaulted  by  gigantic  elms  and  limes  as 
opaque  as  arches  of  masonry. 

Along  the  slope  of  Haverstock  hill,  where 
our  ascent  begins,  we  find  the  sometime  homes 
of  Percival,  Stanfield,  Rowland  Hill,  and  the 
historian  Palgrave.  Near  by  is  the  cottage  where 
dwelt  Mrs.  Barbauld,  and  the  Roslyn  House, 
where  Sheridan,  Pitt,  Burke,  and  Fox  were 
guests  of  Loughborough.  Here,  too,  formerly 
stood  the  mansion  where  Steele  entertained  the 
poet  of  the  "  Dunciad,"  with  Garth  and  other 
famed  wits.  On  the  hill-side  a  leafy  lane  leads 
out  of  High  Street  to  the  picturesque  church 
of    the   parish,  whose    tower   is   a    conspicuous 

14 


Baillie — Johnson — Kit-Kat  Club 

landmark.  Within  this  fane  we  find,  against 
the  wall  on  the  right  of  the  chancel,  the  beauti- 
ful marble  bust  recently  erected  by  American 
admirers  "  To  the  Ever-living  Memory"  of  the 
author  of  "  Lamia"  and  "  Hyperion."  Here, 
too,  is  the  plain  memorial  tablet  of  the  poetess 
Joanna  Baillie,  who  lived  in  an  unpretentious 
mansion  lately  standing  in  the  neighborhood, 
where  she  was  visited  by  Wordsworth,  Rogers, 
and  others  of  potential  genius.  In  the  thickly 
tenanted  church-yard  she  sleeps  with  her  sister 
near  the  graves  of  Incledon,  Erskine,  and  the 
historian  Mackintosh.  Below  the  church,  on 
the  westering  slope,  lies  embowered  Frognall, 
once  the  home  of  Gay,  where  Dr.  Johnson 
lived  and  wrote  "  The  Vanity  of  Human  Wishes" 
in  the  house  where  the  gifted  Nichol  now  re- 
sides with  the  author  of  "  Ships  that  Pass  in  the 
Night"  for  a  neighbor  and  with  the  home  of 
Besant  in  view  from  his  study.  Near  the  sum- 
mit of  Hampstead  stands  a  sober  old  edifice 
which  was  of  yore  the  Upper  Flask  tavern, 
where  the  famous  Kit-Kat  Club  held  its  summer 
seances,  when  such  luminous  spirits  as  Walpole, 
Prior,  Dorset,  Pope,  Congreve,  Swift,  Steele, 
and  Addison  assembled  here  in  the  low-panelled 
rooms  which  we  may  still  see,  or  beneath  the 
old  trees  o^  the  garden,  and  interchanged  sallies 
of  wit  and  fancy  over  their  cakes  and  ale.      To 

15 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

this  inn   Lovelace  brought  the  "Clarissa  Har- 
lowe"  of  Richardson's  famed  romance,  and  here 
Steevens,  the  scholiast  of  Shakespeare,  lived  and 
died.     Flask  Walk,  which  leads  out  of  the  high 
street  among  old  houses  and  greeneries,  brings 
us  to  the  shadowy  Well  Walk,  with  its  over- 
arching trees  and  with  many  living  memories 
masoned  into  its  dead  walls.     Here  we  see  the 
little  remnant  of  the  once  famous  well  which 
for  a   time   made   Hampstead   a  resort   for  the 
fashionable     and     the     suffering.       Among    the 
fancied  invalids  who  once  dwelt  in  Well  Walk 
was    the    spouse    of    Dr.   Johnson.       Akenside, 
Arbuthnot,  and  Mrs.  Barbauld  (editor  of  "Rich- 
ardson's Correspondence")  have  sometime  lived 
in  this  same  little  street ;   here  the  mother  of 
Tennyson  died,  and   here  the   sweet  boy-poet 
Keats  lodged   and  wrote  "  Endymion."     At  a 
house  still  to  be  seen  in  the  vicinage  he  was  for 
two  years  the  guest  of  his  friend  Brown ;  here 
he  wrote  "  Hyperion,"  "  St.  Agnes,"  and  the 
"  Ode  to  a  Nightingale,"  and  here  he  wasted  in 
mortal  illness,  being  at  last  removed  to   Rome 
only  to  die.     Under  the  limes  of  Well  Walk  is 
a  spot  especially  hallowed  by  the  memory  of 
Keats  :  it  was  the  object  and  limit  of  his  walks 
in  his  later  months,  and  here  was  placed  a  seat 
(which  until  lately  was  preserved  and  bore  his 
name),  where  he  sat  for  hours  at  a  time  beneath 

i6 


Keats— The  Heath 

the  whispering  boughs,  gazing,  often  through 
tears,  upon  the  enchanting  vista  of  wave-like 
woods  and  fields,  the  valley  with  its  gleaming 
lakelets,  and  the  farther  slopes  crowned  by  the 
spires  of  Highgate,  which  rise  out  of  banks  ot 
foliage.  The  view  is  no  less  beautiful  than  when 
Keats's  vision  lingered  lovingly  upon  it,  although 
we  must  go  into  the  open  fields  to  behold  it  now. 
If  we  bestir  ourselves  to  reach  the  summit  of 
the  heath  before  the  accustomed  pall  shall  have 
settled  down  upon  the  great  city,  the  exertion 
will  be  abundantly  rewarded  by  the  prospect 
that  greets  us  as  we  overlook  the  abodes  of  eight 
millions  of  souls.  Such  a  view  is  possible  no- 
where else  on  earth  :  outspread  before  us  lies  the 
vast  metropolis  with  its  seven  thousand  miles  of 
streets,  while  without  and  beyond  this  aggrega- 
tion of  houses  we  behold  an  expanse  of  land- 
scape diversified  with  vale  and  hill,  copse  and 
field,  village  and  park,  extending  for  leagues  in 
every  direction  and  embracing  portions  of  seven 
of  England's  populous  shires.  We  see  the  great 
dome  of  St.  Paul's  and  the  tall  towers  of  West- 
minster rising  out  of  the  mass  of  myriad  roofs ; 
the  Crystal  Palace  glinting  amid  its  green 
terraces  ;  across  the  city  we  behold  the  verdured 
slopes  of  Surrey  and,  farther  away,  the  higher 
hills  of  Sussex ;  our  eyes  follow  the  course  of 
the    Thames    from    imperial    Windsor,    whose 

B  17 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

battlements  are  misty  in  the  distance  of  the 
western  horizon,  to  its  mouth  at  Gravesend ; 
yonder  at  the  right  is  Harrow,  set  on  its  classic 
hill-top,  with  its  ancient  church  by  which  the 
boy  Byron  idled  and  dreamed  ;  northward  we 
see  pretty  Barnet,  where  "  Oliver  Twist" 
met  the  "  Dodger ;"  nearer  is  romantic  High- 
gate,  and  all  around  us  lie  the  green  slopes  and 
leafy  recesses  of  the  heath.  Through  these 
strode  the  murderer  Sykes  of  Dickens's  tale,  and 
from  the  higher  parts  of  this  common  we  may 
trace  the  way  of  his  aimless  flight  from  the  pur- 
suing eyes  of  Nancy, — through  Islington  and 
Highgate  to  Hendon  and  Hatfield,  and  thence 
to  the  place  of  his  miserable  death  at  Rotherhithe. 
There  are  hours  of  delightful  strolling  amid  the 
mazes  of  the  picturesque  heath,  with  its  alterna- 
tions of  heathered  hills  and  flower-decked  dales, 
its  pretty  pools,  its  braes  of  brambled  gorse  and 
pine,  its  tangle  of  countless  paths.  One  will 
not  wonder  that  it  has  been  the  resort  of  littera- 
teurs from  the  time  of  Dryden  till  now  :  Pope, 
Goldsmith,  and  Johnson  loved  to  ramble  here ; 
Hunt,  Dickens,  Collins,  and  Thackeray  were  fa- 
miliar with  these  shady  paths ;  Nichol,  Besant, 
James,  and  Du  Maurier  are  now  to  be  seen  among 
the  walkers  on  the  heath.  A  worn  path  bearing 
to  the  right  conducts  to  the  turf-carpeted  vale 
where,  in  a  little  cottage  whose  site  is  now  oc- 

i8 


Leigh  Hunt — Jack  Straw's  Castle 

cupied  by  the  inn,  Leigh  Hunt  lived  for  some 
years.  Such  guests  as  Lamb,  Hazlitt,  Cole- 
ridge, Hood,  and  Cornwall  came  to  this  humble 
home,  and  here  Shelley  met  Keats,  the  "Ado- 
nais"  of  his  elegy.  Not  far  away  lie  the  ponds 
of  Pickwick's  unwearied  researches ;  and  in 
another  corner  of  the  common  we  find  an 
ancient  tavern  bowered  with  shrubbery,  in 
whose  garden  Addison  and  Steele  oft  sipped 
their  ale  of  a  summer  evening,  and  where  is  still 
cherished  a  portion  of  a  tree  planted  by  Hogarth. 
On  an  elevation  of  the  heath  stands  "Jack 
Straw's  Castle,"  believed  to  mark  the  place  of 
encampment  of  that  rebel  chieftain  with  his 
mob  of  peasantry.  It  is  a  curious  old  structure, 
with  wainscoted  walls,  and  was  especially  favored 
by  Dickens,  who  often  dined  here  with  Maclise 
and  Forster  and  read  to  them  his  MSS.  or 
counselled  with  them  concerning  his  plots. 
Out  on  the  heath  near  by  was  found  the  corpse 
of  Sadlier  the  speculator,  who,  after  bankrupting 
thousands  of  confiding  dupes,  committed  suicide 
here ;  his  career  suggested  to  Dickens  the 
Merdle  and  his  complaint  of  "  Little  Dorrit." 
Among  the  embowered  dwellings  beyond  West 
Heath  we  find  that  in  which  Chatham  was 
self-immured,  the  cottage  in  which  Mrs.  Coven- 
try Patmore — the  Angel  in  the  House — died, 
the  place  where  Crabbe  sojourned  with  Hoare. 

19 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

This  vicinage  has  been  the  delight  of  artists  from 
the  time  of  Gainsborough,  and  is  still  a  favorite 
sketching  ground  :  here  lived  Collins  and  Blake, 
and  Constable  dwelt  not  far  away.  The  author 
of  "  Trilby,"  who  has  recently  taken  front  rank 
in  the  literary  profession,  long  had  home  and 
studio  in  a  picturesque  ivy-grown  brick  mansion 
of  many  angles  and  turrets,  in  a  quiet  street 
upon  the  other  side  of  the  hill ;  here  among  his 
treasures  of  art  he  commenced  a  third  book  soon 
to  be  published. 

The  highway  which  leads  north  from  Jack 
Straw's  affords  an  exhilarating  walk,  with  a 
superb  prospect  upon  either  hand,  and  brings 
us  to  the  historic  Spaniard's  Inn,  a  pleasant 
wayside  resort  decked  with  vines  and  flowers, 
where  pedestrians  stop  for  refreshments.  Dick- 
ens oft  came  to  this  place,  and  here  we  see  the 
shady  garden,  with  its  tables  and  seats,  where 
Mrs.  Bardell  held  with  her  cronies  the  mild 
revel  which  was  interrupted  by  the  arrest  of  the 
widow  for  the  costs  in  Bardell  vs.  Pickwick. 
The  quiet  of  this  ancient  inn  was  disturbed  one 
night  by  a  fierce  band  of  Gordon  rioters,  who 
rushed  up  the  paths  of  the  heath  on  their  way 
to  Mansfield's  house,  and  stopped  here  to  drink 
or  destroy  the  contents  of  the  inn-cellars, — an 
occurrence  which  is  graphically  described  by 
Dickens  in  the  looting  of  the  Maypole  Inn  of 

20 


The  Spaniard's — Home  of  Coleridge 

Willet,  in  "  Barnaby  Rudge."  Next  to  the 
Spaniard's  once  lived  Erskine,  and  among  the 
grand  beeches  of  Caen  Wood  we  see  the  house 
of  Mansfield,  where  the  daughter  of  Mary 
Montagu  was  mistress,  and  where  illustrious 
guests  like  Pope,  Southey,  and  Coleridge  were 
entertained. 

A  farther  walk  through  the  noble  wood 
brings  us  to  the  delightful  suburb  of  Highgate, 
where  we  now  vainly  seek  the  Arundel  House 
where  the  great  Bacon  died  and  find  only  the 
site  of  the  simple  cottage  where  Marvell,  the 
"  British  Aristides,"  lived  and  wrote.  The  last 
home  of  the  author  of  "  Ancient  Mariner"  is 
in  a  row  of  pleasant  houses  on  a  shady  street 
called  The  Grove,  a  little  way  from  the  high 
street,  which  was  in  Coleridge's  time  the  great 
Northern  coach-road  from  London.  The  house 
is  a  neat  brick  structure  of  two  stories,  in  which 
we  may  see  the  room  where  the  poet  lodged 
and  where  he  breathed  out  his  melancholy  life. 
A  pretty  little  patch  of  turf  is  in  front  of  the 
dwelling,  a  larger  garden,  beloved  by  the  poet, 
is  at  the  back,  and  the  trees  which  border  the 
foot-walk  were  planted  in  his  lifetime.  To  this 
cosy  refuge  he  came  to  reside  with  his  friends 
the  Gilmans ;  here  he  was  visited  by  Hunt,  who 
once  lodged  in  the  next  street.  Lamb,  Hazlitt, 
Wordsworth,  Shelley,  De   Quincey,  and  others 

21 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

of  like  fame ;  and  here,  for  nineteen  years, 
"  afflicted  with  manifold  infirmities,"  he  con- 
tinued the  struggle  against  a  baneful  habit,  which 
ended  only  with  his  life.  His  grave  was  made 
not  far  away,  in  a  portion  of  the  church-yard 
which  has  since  been  overbuilt  by  a  school, 
among  whose  crypt-like  under-arches  we  find 
the  tomb  of  stone,  lying  in  pathetic  and  perpet- 
ual twilight,  where  the  poet  sleeps  well  without 
the  lethean  drug  which  ruined  his  life.  On  this 
hill  lived  "  Copperfield"  with  Dora,  and  at  its 
foot  is  the  stone  where  Whittington  sat  and 
heard  the  bells  recall  him  to  London. 

On  the  slope  toward  the  city  is  the  most 
beautiful  of  the  London  cemeteries,  with  a 
wealth  of  verdure  and  bloom.  Within  its 
hallowed  shades  lie  the  ashes  of  many  whose 
memories  are  more  fragrant  than  the  flowers 
that  deck  their  graves.  In  a  beautiful  spot 
which  was  beloved  by  the  sweet  singer  in  life 
we  find  the  tomb  of  Parepa  Rosa,  tended  by 
loving  hands ;  not  far  away,  among  the  mourn- 
ing cypresses,  lie  Lyndhurst  and  the  great  Fara- 
day. A  plain  tombstone  erected  by  Dickens 
marks  the  sepulchre  of  his  parents,  and  by  it 
lies  his  daughter  Dora,  her  gravestone  bearing 
now,  besides  her  simple  epitaph  prepared  by 
her  father,  the  name  of  the  novelist  himself  and 
the   names   of  two   of  his  sons.      Here,   too,   is 


Grave  of  George  Eliot 

the  grave  of  Rossetti's  young  wife,  whence  his 
famous  poems  were  exhumed.  Among  the  many- 
tombs  of  the  enclosure,  the  one  to  which  most 
pilgrims  come  is  that  of  the  immortal  author  of 
"  Romola."  On  a  verdant  slope  we  find  the 
spot  where,  upon  a  cold  and  stormy  day  which 
tested  the  affection  of  her  friends,  the  mortal 
part  of  George  Eliot  was  covered  with  flowers 
and  lovingly  laid  beside  the  husband  of  her 
youth.  Wreaths  of  flowers  conceal  the  mound, 
and  out  of  it  rises  a  monument  of  gray  granite 
bearing  her  name  and  years  and  the  lines 

«<  Of  those  immortal  dead  who  live  again 
In  minds  made  better  by  their  presence." 

From  the  terraces  above  her  bed  we  look  over 
the  busy  metropolis,  astir  with  its  myriad  pulses 
of  life  and  passion,  while  its  rumble  and  din 
sound  in  our  ears  in  a  murmurous  monotone. 
As  we  linger  amid  the  lengthening  shadows  until 
the  sunset  glory  fades  out  of  the  sky  above  the 
heath  and  the  lights  of  London  gleam  mistily 
through  the  smoke,  we  rejoice  that  we  find  the 
tomb  of  George  Eliot,  not  in  the  aisles  ot 
Westminster,  where  some  would  have  laid  her, 
but  in  this  open  place,  where  the  winds  sigh  a 
requiem  through  the  swaying  boughs,  the  birds 
swirl  and  twitter  in  the  free  azure  above,  and  the 
silent  stars  nightly  watch  over  her  grave. 

»3 


BY   SOUTHWARK  AND 
THAMES-SIDE   TO   CHELSEA 

Chaucer  -  Shakespeare  -  Dickens  —  Walpole  -  Pepys  -  Eliot  - 
Rossetti  -  Carlyle  -  Hunt  -  Gay  -  Smollett  -  Kingsley  - 
Herbert  —  Dorset  -  Addison  -  Shaftesbury  -  Locke  —  Bo- 
lingbroke  —  Pope  —  Richardson,  etc. 

TF  our  way  to  Southwark  be  that  of  the  pil- 
grims of  Chaucer's  time,  by  the  London 
Bridge,  we  have  on  our  right  the  dark  reach  of 
river  where  Lizzie  Hexam  was  discovered  in  the 
opening  of  "  Our  Mutual  Friend,"  rowing  the 
boat  of  the  bird  of  prey ;  on  the  right,  too,  we 
see  the  Iron  Bridge  where  "  Little  Dorrit"  dis- 
missed young  Chivery ;  and  a  few  steps  bring 
us  to  a  scene  of  another  of  Dickens's  romances, 
the  landing-stairs  at  the  end  of  London  Bridge, 
where  Nancy  had  the  interview  with  "  Oliver 
Twist's"  friends  which  cost  the  outcast  her  life. 
Here,  too,  the  boy  Dickens  used  to  await  ad- 
mission to  the  Marshalsea,  often  in  company 
with  the  little  servant  of  his  father's  family  who 
figures  in  his  fiction  as  the  "  orfling"  of  the  Mi- 
cawber  household  and  the  "  Marchioness"  of 
the  Brass  establishment  in  Bevis  Marks.  In  the 
adjacent  church  of  St.  Saviour,  part  of  which 
was  standing  when  the  Father  of  English  poetry 
sojourned  in  the  near  Tabard  inn,  is  the  efiigied 
tomb  of  the  poet  Gower,  a  friend  of  Chaucer ; 

24 


The  Tabard — ^White  Hart — Marshalsea 

here  also  lie  buried  Shakespeare's  brother  Ed- 
mund, an  actor;  Fletcher  the  dramatist,  who 
lived  close  by ;  and  Lawrence  Fletcher,  copar- 
cener of  Shakespeare  in  the  Globe  Theatre, 
which  stood  near  at  hand,  on  a  portion  of  the 
site  of  the  brewery  which  Dr.  Johnson,  ex- 
ecutor of  his  friend  Thrale,  sold  to  Barclay  and 
Perkins.  The  extensions  of  this  establishment 
now  cover  the  site  of  a  church  where  Baxter 
preached,  and  the  sepulchre  of  Cruden,  author 
of  the  "  Concordance."  In  near-by  Zoar  Street, 
Bunyan  preached  in  a  large  chapel  near  the  Fal- 
con tavern,  which  was  a  resort  of  Shakespeare. 
Of  the  Tabard  inn,  whence  Chaucer's  Canter- 
bury company  set  out,  the  pilgrim  of  to-day  finds 
naught  save  the  name  on  the  sign  of  the  new  tavern 
which  marks  its  site  on  Borough  High  Street ; 
and  the  picturesque  White  Hart,  which  stood 
near  by — an  inn  known  to  Shakespeare  and  men- 
tioned in  his  dramas — where  Jingle  of  "  Pick- 
wick," eloping  with  Miss  Wardle,  was  over- 
taken and  Sam  Weller  discovered,  was  not  long 
ago  degraded  into  a  vulgar  dram-shop.  Near  St. 
Thomas's  Church  in  this  neighborhood  for- 
merly stood  the  hospital  in  which  Akenside  was 
physician  and  Keats  a  student.  A  little  farther 
along  the  High  Street  we  come  to  a  passage  at 
the  left  leading  into  a  paved  yard  which  was  the 
court  of  the  Marshalsea,  and  the  high  wall  at 

2S 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

the  right  is  believed  to  have  been  a  part  of  the 
old  prison  w^here  Dickens's  father  was  confined 
in  the  rooms  which  the  novelist  assigns  to  Wil- 
liam Dorrit,  and  where  "  Little  Dorrit"  was 
born  and  reared.  In  this  court  the  Dickens 
children  played,  and  under  yonder  pump  by  the 
wall  Pancks  cooled  his  head  on  a  memorable 
occasion.  Just  beyond  is  St.  George's  Church, 
where  "  Little  Dorrit"  was  baptized  and  mar- 
ried, with  its  vestry  where  she  once  slept  with 
the  register  under  her  head ;  adjoining  is  the 
church-yard,  once  overlooked  by  the  prison- 
windows  of  Dickens  and  Dorrit,  where  the  dis- 
consolate young  Chivery  expected  to  be  un- 
timely laid  under  a  lugubrious  epitaph.  Another 
block  brings  us  to  dingy  Lant  Street — "  out  of 
Hight  Street,  right  side  the  way" — where  the  boy 
Dickens  lived  in  the  back  attic  of  the  same 
shabby  house  in  which  Bob  Sawyer  afterward 
lodged  and  gave  the  party  to  Pickwick.  Be- 
yond the  next  turning  stood  King's  Bench 
Prison,  where  Micawber  was  incarcerated  by  his 
stony-hearted  creditors,  and  beyond  this  again 
we  come  to  the  tabernacle  where  Spurgeon 
preached.  Turning  at  the  site  of  Micawber's 
prison,  the  Borough  Road  conducts  us,  by  the 
sponging-house  where  Hook  was  confined,  to 
the  Christ  Church  of  Newman  Hall, — successor 
to  Rowland  Hill :  it  is  a  beautiful  edifice,  erected 

26 


Thames-Side — Shop  of  Jenny  Wren 

largely  by  contributions  from  America,  its  hand- 
some tower  being  designed  as  a  monument  to 
Abraham  Lincoln  and  marked  by  a  memorial 
tablet.  A  little  way  southward,  we  find  among 
the  buildings  of  Lambeth  Palace  the  library  of 
which  Green,  the  historian  of  the  "  English 
People,"  was  long  custodian,  and  the  ancient 
room  where  Essex  and  the  poet  Lovelace  were 
imprisoned. 

Recrossing  Father  Thames  and  passing  the 
oft-described  shrines  of  Westminster  we  come  to 
Millbank,  the  region  into  which  Copperfield 
and  Peggotty  followed  the  wretched  Martha 
and  saved  her  from  suicide.  Out  of  Millbank 
Street,  a  few  steps  by  a  little  thoroughfare 
bring  us  into  the  somnolent  Smith  Square  in 
which  stands  the  grotesque  church  of  St.  John, 
where  Churchill  once  preached, — described  in 
"Our  Mutual  Friend"  as  a  "very  hideous 
church  with  four  towers,  resembling  some  petri- 
fied monster  on  its  back  with  its  legs  in  the  air." 
To  this  place  came  Charley  Hexam  and  his 
school-master  and  Wrayburn,  for  here  in  front 
of  the  church,  at  a  house  near  the  corner,  Lizzie 
Hexam — the  best  of  all  Dickens's  women — 
lodged  with  Jenny  Wren.  It  was  a  little  house 
of  two  stories,  and  its  dingy  front  room — the 
shop  of  the  dolls'  dress-maker — later  was  used 
as  a  cheap  restaurant,  where  we   once  regaled 

27 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

ourselves  with  a  dish  of  equivocal  tea  while  we 
looked  about  us  and  recognized  the  half-door 
across  which  Wrayburn  indolently  leaned  as  he 
chatted  with  Lizzie,  the  seat  in  front  of  the  wide 
window  where  Jenny  sat  at  her  work  with  her 
crutch  leaning  against  the  wall,  the  corner  to 
which  she  consigned  her  "  bad  old  child"  in  his 
drunken  disgrace,  the  stairs  which  led  to 
Lizzie's  chamber, — objects  all  noted  by  the  ob- 
servant glance  of  Dickens  as  he  peered  for  a 
moment  through  the  door-way.  Sauntering 
southward  by  Grosvenor  Road,  where  Lizzie 
walked  with  her  brother  and  Headstone,  we 
have  beside  us  on  the  left  the  river,  glinting  and 
shimmering  in  the  morning  sunlight  and  alive 
with  every  sort  of  craft  that  plies  for  trade  or 
pleasure.  It  was  along  these  curving  reaches  of 
the  Thames  that  the  merry  parties  of  the  olden 
time,  destined  like  ourselves  to  Chelsea,  used  to 
row  over  the  miles  that  then  intervened  between 
London  and  the  ancient  village,  and  here,  too, 
Franklin,  then  a  printer  in  Bartholomew  Close, 
once  swam  the  entire  distance  from  Chelsea  to 
Blackfriars  Bridge.  The  way  along  which  we 
are  strolling  then  lay  in  the  open  country,  with 
leafy  lanes  leading  aside  among  groves  and  sun- 
flecked  fields.  But  woods  and  fields  have  dis- 
appeared under  compact  masses  of  brick  and 
mortar,  and  the  quaint  old  suburb  is  linked  to 


Old  Chelsea— Walpole 

the  city  by  continuous  streets  and  structures. 
Contact  has  not  altogether  destroyed  the  dis- 
tinctive features  of  the  ancient  suburb,  and  we 
know  when  our  walk  has  brought  us  to  its  bor- 
ders. Few  of  its  thoroughfares  retain  the 
dreamful  quiet  of  the  olden  time,  few  of  its  rows 
of  sombre  and  dignified  dwellings  have  wholly 
escaped  the  modern  eruption  of  ornate  and 
staring  architecture ;  the  old  and  the  new  are 
curiously  blended,  but  enough  of  the  former 
remains  to  remind  us  that  Chelsea  is  olden  and 
not  modern,  and  to  revive  for  us  the  winsome 
associations  with  which  the  place  is  permeated. 
The  suggestion  of  worshipful  antiquity  is  seen 
in  sedate,  ivy  entwined  mansions  of  dusky-hued 
brick,  in  carefully  kept  old  trees  which  in  their 
saplinghood  knew  Pepys,  Johnson,  or  Smollett, 
in  quaint  inns  whose  homely  comforts  were  en- 
joyed by  illustrious  habitues  in  the  long  ago. 

Our  stroll  beyond  the  Grosvenor  Road  brings 
us  to  the  famous  "  Chelsea  Physick  Garden," 
presented  to  the  Apothecaries'  Society  by  Sloane, 
the  founder  of  the  British  Museum,  who  was 
a  medical  student  here ;  it  was  to  this  garden 
that  Polyphilus  of  the  "  Rambler"  was  going  to 
see  a  new  plant  in  flower  when  he  was  diverted 
by  meeting  the  chancellor's  coach.  At  the 
adjoining  hospital  dwelt  the  gifted  Mrs.  Somer- 
ville,  whose   husband   was   a  physician    there; 

29 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

and  the  ancient  mansion  of  dingy  brick,  in 
which  Walpole  lived,  and  where  Pope,  Swift, 
Gay,  and  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  were  guests, 
is  a  portion  of  the  infirmary, — the  great  draw- 
ing-room in  which  the  brilliant  company  met 
being  a  hospital  ward.  A  little  way  northward, 
by  Sloane  Street,  we  come  to  Hans  Place,  where, 
at  No.  25,  the  sweet  poetess  Letitia  Landon 
("  L.  E.  L.")  was  born  in  a  tiny  two-storied 
house  ;  she  attended  school  in  a  similar  house  of 
the  same  row,  where  Miss  Mitford  and  the 
authoress  of  "  Glenarvon"  had  before  been 
pupils.  Along  the  river  again  we  find  beyond 
the  hospital  a  passage  leading  to  the  place  of 
Paradise  Row,  where,  in  a  little  brick  house, 
the  witching  Mancini  was  visited  by  Charles 
II.  and  poetized  by  the  brilliant  Evremond. 
Here,  at  the  corner  of  Robinson's  Lane,  Pepys 
visited  Robarte  in  "  the  prettiest  contrived 
house"  the  diarist  ever  saw ;  not  far  away  a 
comfortable  old  inn  occupies  the  site  of  the 
dwelling  of  the  historian  Faulkner,  in  the 
neighborhood  where  the  essayist  Mary  Astell 
— ridiculed  by  Swift,  Addison,  Steele,  Smollett, 
and  Congreve — had  her  modest  home.  Robert 
Walpole's  later  residence  stood  near  Queen's 
Road  West,  and  its  grounds  sloped  to  the  river 
just  below  the  Swan  Tavern,  near  the  bottom 
of  the  lane  now  called  Swan  Walk.     It  was  at 

30 


Homes  of  George  Eliot  and  Rossetti 

this  river  inn  that  Pepys  "  got  aiFright"  on  being 
told  of  an  eruption  of  the  plague  in  Chelsea. 

For  a  half-mile  or  so  westward  from  the  Swan, 
picturesque  Cheyne  Walk — beloved  of  the  liter- 
ati— stretches  along  the  river-bank.  Its  many- 
old  houses,  with  their  solemn-visaged  fronts 
overlooking  the  river,  their  iron  railings,  dusky 
walls,  tiled  roofs,  and  curious  dormer-windows, 
are  impressive  survivors  of  a  past  age.  At  No. 
4,  a  substantia]  brick  house  of  four  stories,  with 
battlemented  roof  and  with  oaken  carvings  in 
the  rooms,  are  preserved  some  relics  of  George 
Eliot,  for  this  was  her  last  home,  and  here  she 
breathed  out  her  life  in  the  same  room  where 
Maclise,  friend  of  Carlyle  and  Dickens,  had 
died  just  a  decade  before.  No.  16,  a  spacious 
dwelling  with  curved  front  and  finely  wrought 
iron  railing  and  gate-way,  was  the  home  of  Ros- 
setti for  the  twenty  years  preceding  his  death. 
With  these  panelled  rooms,  which  he  filled  with 
quaint  and  beautiful  objects  of  art,  are  asso- 
ciated most  of  the  memories  of  the  gifted  poet 
and  painter.  The  large  lower  room  was  his 
studio,  where  one  of  his  last  occupations  was 
painting  a  replica  of  "  Beata  Beatrix,"  the  por- 
trait of  his  wife,  whose  tragic  death  darkened 
his  life.  Around  the  fireplace  in  this  room  a 
brilliant  company  held  the  nightly  seances  which 
a  participant  styles  feasts  of  the  gods.     Through 

31 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

the  passage  at  the  side  the  famous  zebu  was 
conveyed,  and  reconveyed  after  his  assault  upon 
the  poet  in  the  garden.  The  rooms  above  were 
sometime  tenanted  by  Meredith,  Sw^inburne, 
and  Rossetti's  brother  and  biographer,  w^ho  was 
also  Whitman's  editor  and  advocate.  Later, 
the  essayist  Watts,  to  whom  Rossetti  dedicated 
his  greatest  work,  resided  here  to  cherish  his 
friend.  The  garden,  where  Rossetti  kept  his 
odd  pets  and  where  neighbors  remember  to 
have  seen  him  walking  in  paint-bedaubed  attire 
for  hours  together,  is  now  mostly  covered  by  a 
school.  At  first,  many  luminaries  of  letters  and  art 
came  to  him  here, — Jones,  Millais,  Hunt,  Gosse, 
Browning,  Whistler,  Morris,  Oliver  Madox 
Brown,  whose  death  elicited  Rossetti's  **  Un- 
timely Lost,"  and  others  like  them  ;  later,  when 
baneful  narcotics  had  sadly  changed  his  tempera- 
ment, he  dwelt  in  seclusion,  exercising  only  in 
his  garden  and  seeing  such  devoted  friends  as 
Watts,  Knight,  Hake,  "  The  Manxman"  Hall 
Caine,  and  the  gifted  sister,  author  of  **  Goblin 
Market,"  etc.,  who  was  pictured  by  Rossetti  in 
his  **  Girlhood  of  Mary  Virgin,"  and  who 
lately  died.  In  his  study  here  he  produced  his 
best  work  ;  here  he  revised  the  poems  exhumed 
from  his  wife's  grave  and  wrote  **  The  Stream's 
Secret"  and  other  parts  of  the  volume  which 
made  his  fame  and  occasioned  the  battle  between 

3» 


Carlylc's  House — Smollett — Gay 

the  bards  Buchanan  and  Swinburne ;  here  he 
wrote  the  magnificent  "  Rose  Mary,"  "  White 
Ship,"  etc.,  and  completed  the  series  of  sonnets 
which  has  been  pronounced  "  in  its  class  the 
greatest  gift  poetry  has  received  since  Shake- 
speare." 

No.  1 8  was  the  famous  coffee-house  and  bar- 
ber-shop of  Sloane's  servant  Salter, — called  "Don 
Saltero"  by  Gay,  Evremond,  Steele,  Smollett, 
and  the  other  wits  who  frequented  his  place. 
On  the  Embankment  by  this  Cheyne  Walk  we 
find  the  statue  of  Carlyle  ;  behind  it  is  the  dull 
little  lane  of  Cheyne  Row,  whose  quiet  Carlyle 
thought  "  hardly  inferior  to  Craigenputtock," 
and  here  at  No.  5,  later  24,  a  plain  three-storied 
house  of  sullied  brick, — even  more  dingy  than 
its  neighbors, — the  pessimistic  sage  lived,  wrote, 
and  scolded  for  half  a  century.  All  the  wain- 
scoted rooms  are  sombre  and  cheerless,  but  the 
memory-haunted  study  seems  most  depressing  as 
we  stand  at  Carlyle's  hearth-stone  and  look  upon 
the  spot  where  he  sat  to  write  his  many  books. 
The  garden  was  a  pleasanter  place,  with  bright 
flowers  his  wife  planted,  and  the  tree  under 
which  he  loved  to  smoke  and  chat.  Here 
Tennyson  lounged  with  him,  devoted  to  a  long 
pipe  and  longer  discourse ;  here  Froude  oft 
found  him  on  the  daily  visits  which  enabled 
him  to  picture  the  seer,  "  warts  and  all ;"  here 
c  33 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

Dickens,  Maclise,  and  Hunt  saw  him  at  his  best, 
and  here  the  latter  wrote  "Jenny  Kissed  Me," 
— ^Jenny  being  Mrs.  Carlyle.  To  Carlyle  in 
this  sombre  home  came  Emerson,  Ruskin,  Tyn- 
dal,  and  a  host  of  friends  and  disciples  from  all 
lands,  and  hither  will  come  an  endless  proces- 
sion of  admirers,  for  many  Carlyle  belongings 
have  been  recovered,  and  the  place  is  to  be  pre- 
served as  a  memorial  of  the  stern  philosopher. 
Around  the  corner  Hunt  lived,  in  the  curious 
little  house  Carlyle  described,  and  here  he 
studied  and  wrote  in  the  upper  front  room.  On 
the  next  block  of  the  same  street  stood  the 
home  of  Smollett,  which  was  removed  the  year 
that  Carlyle  came  to  dwell  in  the  vicinage.  It 
was  a  spacious  mansion  which  had  been  the 
Lawrence  manor-house.  Smollett  wrote  here 
"  Count  Fathom,"  "  Clinker,"  and  "  Launcelot 
Greaves,"  and  finished  Hume's  "  England." 
Here  Garrick,  Johnson,  Sterne,  and  other  starry 
spirits  were  his  guests,  and  here  later  lived  the 
poet  Gay  and  wrote  **  The  Shepherd's  Week," 
"  Rural  Sports,"  and  part  of  his  comedies.  In 
the  cellars  of  some  of  the  houses  at  the  top  of 
Lawrence  Street  may  be  seen  remains  of  the 
ovens  of  the  once  famous  Chelsea  china-factory, 
where  Dr.  Johnson  wrought  for  some  time  vainly 
trying  to  master  the  art  of  china-making, — his 
pieces  always  cracking  in  the  oven :  a  service  of 

34 


Kingsley — Herbert — Dorset 

china  presented  to  him  by  the  factorymen  here 
was  preserved  in  Holland  House.  A  taste- 
ful Queen  Anne  mansion  with  beautiful  interior 
decorations,  not  far  from  the  Carlyle  house,  was 
a  domicile  of  the  poet  and  esthete  Oscar  Wilde. 
In  the  picturesque  rectory  of  St.  Luke's,  a  few 
rods  north  from  Cheyne  Row,  the  author  of 
**  Hypatia"  and  his  scarcely  less  famed  brother 
Henry,  of  "  Ravenshoe,"  lived  as  boys,  their 
father  being  the  incumbent  of  the  parish. 
Henry  Kingsley  presents,  in  his  "  Hillyars  and 
Burtons,"  charming  sketches  of  Chelsea  as  it 
existed  in  his  boyhood.  Overlooking  the  river 
at  the  foot  of  the  adjoining  street,  we  find  Chel- 
sea Church,  one  of  the  most  curious  and  inter- 
esting of  London's  many  fanes,  albeit  partially 
disfigured  by  modern  changes.  In  its  pulpit 
Donne,  the  poet-divine,  preached  at  the  funeral 
of  the  mother  of  George  Herbert ;  at  its  altar 
the  dramatist  Colman  was  married.  Among  its 
many  monuments  we  find  the  mural  tablet  of 
Sir  Thomas  More,  a  marble  slab  with  an  in- 
scription by  himself  which  formerly  described 
him  as  "  harassing  to  thieves,  murderers,  and 
heretics."  Here  lie  the  ancestors  of  the  poet 
Sidney,  and  in  the  little  church-yard  are  the 
graves  of  Shadwell  the  laureate,  who  died  just 
back  of  the  church,  of  the  publisher  of  "Ju- 
nius," and  of  a  brother  of  Fielding.     Leading 

35 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

back  from  the  river  here  is  Church  Street,  on 
which  dwelt  Swift,  Atterbury,  and  Arbuthnot, 
while  Steele  had  a  little  house  near  by.  The 
next  street  is  named  for  Sir  John  Danvers,  whose 
house  was  at  the  top  of  the  little  street :  his 
wife  was  the  mother  of  the  poet  Herbert,  who 
dwelt  here  for  a  time  and  wrote  some  of  his 
earlier  poems ;  Donne  and  the  amiable  angler 
Izaak  Walton  were  frequent  guests  of  Herbert's 
mother  in  this  place.  The  adjacent  street  marks 
the  place  of  Beaufort  House,  the  palatial  resi- 
dence of  Sir  Thomas  More,  where  he  was 
visited  by  his  much-married  monarch ;  where 
the  learned  and  colloquial  author  of  "  En- 
comium Moriae,"  Erasmus,  was  sometime  an 
inmate ;  and  where,  decades  later,  Thomas 
Sackville,  Earl  Dorset,  wrote  the  earliest  English 
tragedy,  "  Gorboduc."  A  time-worn  structure 
between  King's  Road  and  the  Thames  was  once 
the  home  of  the  bewitching  Nell  Gwynne,  and 
in  later  years  "  became  (not  inappropriately)  a 
gin-temple,"  as  Carlyle  said :  this  old  edifice 
was  also  sometime  occupied  by  Addison.  Back 
of  King's  Road  we  find  the  venerable  Shaftes- 
bury House, — in  which  the  famous  earl  wrote 
**  Characteristics,"  Locke  began  his  **  Essay," 
and  Addison  produced  some  of  his  Spectator 
papers, — long  transformed  into  a  workhouse,  in 
the  grounds  of  which  we  are  shown  the  place 

36 


Shaftesbury — Bolingbroke 

of  "  Locke's  yew,"  recently  removed.  The  Old 
World's  End  Tavern,  by  Riley  Street,  was  the 
notorious  resort  of  Congreve's  "  Love  for 
Love ;"  the  once  ill-famed  Cremorne  Gardens, 
just  beyond,  were  erst  part  of  the  estate  of  a 
granddaughter  of  William  Penn,  who  was  related 
to  the  Penns  of  Stoke-Pogis,  where  Gray  wrote 
the  "Elegy."  A  near-by  little  ivy-grown  brick 
house,  with  wide  windows  in  its  front  and  an 
iron  balcony  upon  its  roof,  was  long  the  home 
of  Turner,  and  in  the  upper  room,  through 
whose  arched  window  he  could  look  out  upon 
the  river,  he  died.  From  the  water-edge  here 
we  see,  upon  the  opposite  shore,  the  old  church 
where  Blake  was  married  and  Bolingbroke  was 
buried,  and  from  whose  vestry  window  Turner 
made  his  favorite  sketches ;  near  by  is  a  portion 
of  the  ancient  house  where  Bolingbroke  was 
born  and  died,  where  he  entertained  such  guests 
as  Chesterfield,  Swift,  and  Pope,  and  where  the 
latter  wrote  part  of  the  "  Essay  on  Man." 
Beyond  Chelsea  we  find  at  Fulham  the  spot 
where  lived  and  died  Richardson,  who  is  said  to 
have  written  "  Clarissa  Harlowe"  here ;  and, 
near  the  river,  the  place  of  the  home  of  Hook, 
and  his  mural  tablet  in  the  old  church  by  which 
he  lies,  near  the  grave  of  the  poet  Vincent 
Bourne.  Our  ramble  by  Thames-side  may  be 
pleasantly  prolonged  through  a  region  rife  with 

37 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

the  associations  we  esteem  most  precious.  Our 
way  lies  among  the  sometime  haunts  of  Cowley, 
Bulwer,  Pepys,  Thomson,  Marryat,  Pope, 
Hogarth,  Tennyson,  Fielding,  "Junius,"  Gar- 
rick,  and  many  another  shining  one.  Some  of 
lesser  genius  dwell  now  incarnate  in  this  mem- 
ory-haunted district  by  the  river-side, — the  radi- 
cal Labouchere,  living  in  Pope's  famous  villa, 
Stephens,  and  the  author  of  **  Aurora  Floyd," — 
but  it  is  the  memory  of  the  mighty  dead  that 
impresses  us  as  we  saunter  amid  the  scenes  they 
loved  and  which  inspired  or  witnessed  the  work 
for  which  the  world  gives  them  honor  and 
homage ;  we  find  their  accustomed  resorts,  the 
rural  habitations  where  many  of  them  dwelt  and 
died,  the  dim  church  aisles  or  the  turf-grown 
graves  where  they  are  laid  at  last  in  the  dream- 
less sleep  whose  waking  we  may  not  know. 


38 


THE   SCENE  OF  GRAY'S 
ELEGY 


The  Country  Church-  Yard  —  Tomb  of  Gray  —  Stokt-Pogh 
Church  —  Reverie  and  Reminiscence  —  Scenes  of  Milton  — 
Waller  —  Porter  —  Coke  -  Denham. 

/^UR  visit  to  the  country  church-yard  where 
^"'^  the  ashes  of  Gray  repose  amid  the  scenes 
his  muse  immortalized  is  the  culmination  and  the 
fitting  end  of  a  literary  pilgrimage  westward  from 
London  to  Windsor  and  the  nearer  shrines  of 
Thames-vale.  Our  way  has  led  us  to  the  some- 
time homes  of  Pope,  Fielding,  Shelley,  Garrick, 
Burke,  Richardson  ;  to  the  birthplaces  of  Waller 
and  Gibbon,  the  graves  of  "Junius,"  Hogarth, 
Thomson,  and  Penn ;  to  the  cottage  where  Jane 
Porter  wrote  her  wondrous  tales,  and  the  ivy- 
grown  church  where  Tennyson  was  married. 
Nearer  the  scene  of  the  "  Elegy"  we  visit  other 
shrines  :  the  Horton  where  Milton  wrote  his 
earlier  works,  "  Masque  of  Comus,"  "  Lycidas," 
**  Arcades ;"  the  Hallbarn  where  Waller  com- 
posed the  panegyric  to  Cromwell,  the  "  Con- 
gratulation," and  other  once  famous  poems  ;  the 
mansion  where  the  Herschels  studied  and  wrote. 
We  have  had  the  gray  spire  of  Stoke-Pogis 
Church  in  view  during  this  last  day  of  our  ram- 
ble.    From  the  summit  of  the  "  Cooper's  Hiil" 

39 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

of  Denham's  best-known  poem,  from  the  battle- 
ments of  Windsor  and  the  windows  of  Eton, 
from  the  elm-shaded  meads  that  border  the 
Thames  and  the  fields  redolent  of  lime-trees  and 
new-mown  hay  where  we  loitered,  we  have  had 
tempting  glimpses  of  that  *'  ivy-mantled  tower" 
that  made  us  wish  the  winged  hours  more  swift ; 
for  we  have  purposely  deferred  our  visit  to  that 
sacred  spot  so  that  the  even-tide  and  the  hour 
the  curfew  tolled  "  the  knell  of  parting  day" 
across  this  peaceful  landscape  may  find  us  amid 
the  old  graves  where  "  the  rude  forefathers  of 
the  hamlet  sleep."  As  we  approach  through  ver- 
dant lanes  bordered  by  fields  where  the  plough- 
man is  yet  at  his  toil  and  the  herds  feed  among  the 
buttercups,  the  abundant  ivy  upon  the  tower 
gleams  in  the  light  of  the  declining  sun,  and  the 
**  yew-tree's  shade"  falls  far  aslant  upon  the 
mouldering  turf-heaps.  The  sequestered  God's- 
acre,  consecrated  by  the  genius  of  Gray,  lies  in 
languorous  solitude,  far  removed  from  the  high- 
way and  within  the  precincts  of  a  grand  park 
once  the  possession  of  descendants  of  Penn. 
Just  without  the  enclosure  stands  a  cenotaph 
erected  by  John  Penn,  grandson  of  the  founder 
of  Pennsylvania  ;  it  represents  a  sarcophagus  and 
is  ostensibly  commemorative  of  Gray,  but,  as  has 
been  said,  it  **  resembles  nothing  so  much  as  a 
huge  tea-caddy,"  and  its  inscription  celebrates  the 

40 


The  Country  Church- Yard 

builder  more  than  the  bard.  Within  the  church- 
yard all  is  rest  and  peace ;  the  strife  and  fever 
of  life  intrude  not  here ;  no  sound  of  the  busy 
world  breaks  in  upon  the  hush  that  pervades  this 
spot,  and  "  all  the  air  a  solemn  stillness  holds." 
Something  of  the  serenity  w^hich  here  pervades 
earth  and  sky  steals  into  and  uplifts  the  soul,  and 
the  demons  of  greed  and  passion  are  subdued 
and  silenced  as  we  stand  above  the  tomb  of  Gray 
and  realize  all  the  imagery  of  the  "  Elegy." 
While  our  hearts  are  thrilling  with  the  associa- 
tions of  the  place  and  the  hour,  while  the  ashes 
of  the  tender  poet  rest  at  our  feet  and  the  objects 
that  inspired  the  matchless  poem  surround  us, 
we  may  hope  to  share  in  some  measure  the  ten- 
derer emotions  to  which  the  contemplation  of 
this  scene  stirred  his  soul.  As  we  ponder  these 
objects,  upon  which  his  loving  vision  lingered, 
they  seem  strangely  familiar ;  we  feel  that  we 
have  known  them  long  and  will  love  them 
alway. 

One  must  visit  this  spot  if  he  would  appre- 
ciate the  absolute  fidelity  to  nature  of  the 
**  Elegy  :"  its  imagery  is  the  exact  reproduction 
of  the  scene  lying  about  us,  which  is  practically 
unchanged  since  that  time  so  long  ago  when 
Gray  drafted  his  poem  here.  Above  us  rises 
the  square  tower,  mantled  with  ivy  and  sur- 
mounted by  a  tapering  spire  whose  shadow  now 

41 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

falls  athwart  the  grave  of  the  poet ;  here  are  the 
rugged  elms  with  their  foliage  swaying  in  the 
summer  breeze  above  the  lowly  graves ;  yonder 
by  the  church  porch  is  the  dark  yew  whose 
opaque  shade  covers  the  site  of  the  poet's  ac- 
customed seat  on  the  needle-carpeted  sward ; 
around  us  are  scattered  the  mouldering  heaps 
beneath  which,  "  each  in  his  narrow  cell  for- 
ever laid,"  sleep  the  rustic  dead.  Some  of  the 
humble  mounds  are  unmarked  by  any  token  of 
memory  or  grief,  but  many  bear  the  "  frail 
memorials,"  often  rude  slabs  of  wood,  which 
loving  but  unskilled  hands  have  graven  with 
"  uncouth  rhymes  and  shapeless  sculpture,"  with 
the  names  and  years  of  the  unhonored  dead, 
and  "  many  a  holy  text  that  teach  the  rustic 
moralist  to  die."  Some  of  these  lowly  graves 
hold  the  forefathers  of  families  who,  not  con- 
tent with  the  sequestered  vale  of  life  which 
sufficed  for  these  simple  folk,  have  sought  on 
another  shore  largesses  of  fame  or  fortune  un- 
attainable here.  Among  the  names  "  spelled  by 
the  unlettered  muse"  upon  the  stones  around 
us  we  see  those  of  Goddard,  Perry,  Gould, 
Cooper,  Geer,  and  many  others  familiar  to  our 
American  ears.  The  overarching  glades  of  the 
woods  which  skirt  the  sacred  precinct  were  the 
haunt  of  the  "  youth  to  fortune  and  to  fame 
unknown  ;"  the  nodding  beech,  that  "  wreathes 

4i 


Tomb  of  Gray- 
its  old  fantastic  roots  so  high"  in  the  grove  at 
near-by  Burnham,  was  his  favorite  tree,  as  it  was 
that  of  Gray  ;  afar  through  the  haze  of  a  golden 
after-glow  we  see  the  "  antique  towers"  of 
Eton,  the  stately  brow  of  Windsor,  with  its 
royal  battlements,  and  nearer  the  wave  of  woods 
and  fields  and  all  the  dream-like  beauty  of  the 
landscape  upon  which  the  eyes  of  Gray  so  often 
dwelt,  a  landscape  that  literally  glimmers  in  the 
fading  light. 

A   tablet   set  by   Penn   in   the   chancel   wall 
beneath    the    mullioned   window    is    inscribed, 
"Opposite  this  stone,  in  the  same  tomb  upon 
which  he  so  feelingly  recorded  his  grief  at  the 
loss  of  a  beloved  parent,  are  deposited  the  re- 
mains of   Thomas  Gray,  author  of  the   Elegy 
written  in  a  Country  Church-yard."    A  few  feet 
distant  is  the  tomb  he  erected  for  his  mother, 
which   now   conceals   the   ashes   of   the    gentle 
poet.     It  is  of  the  plainest  and  simplest,  a  low 
structure  of  brick,  covered  by  a  marble  slab. 
No  "  storied  urn  or  animated  bust"  is  needed  to 
perpetuate  the  name  of  him  who  made  himself 
immortal ;  even  his  name  is  not  graven  upon  the 
marble.     We  are  come  directly  from  the  splen- 
dors of  the  royal  chapels  of  Windsor,  where 
costly   sculpture,   gilding,   and    superlative   epi- 
taphs mark   the  sepulchres  of  some  who  were 
mediocre  or  mendicant  of  mind  and  virtue,  and 

43 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

we  are,  therefore,  the  more  impressed  by  the 
fitting  simplicity  of  the  poet's  tomb  among  the 
humble  dead  whose  artless  tale  he  told.  At 
the  grave  of  Gray,  how  tawdry  seems  the  pomp 
of  those  kingly  mausoleums,  how  mean  some 
of  the  lives  the  bedizened  monuments  commem- 
orate, of  how  little  consequence  that  the  world 
should  know  where  such  dust  is  hid  from  sight ! 
At  the  grave  of  Gray,  if  anywhere  the  wide 
world  round,  we  will  correctly  value  the  vanities, 
ambitions,  and  rewards  of  earth,  Gray's  desire 
to  be  buried  here  saved  him  from  what  some 
one  has  called  the  "  misfortune  of  burial  in 
Westminster."  While  the  pilgrim  vainly  seeks 
in  that  national  mausoleum  the  tombs  of  Shake- 
speare, Milton,  Byron,  Gray,  Wordsworth, 
Thackeray,  Coleridge,  Eliot,  and  others  of  di- 
vine genius,  and  finds  instead  the  graves  of  many 
sordid  and  impure,  entombment  there  may  be  a 
misfortune.  Happily  the  poet  of  the  Elegy 
reposes  in  his  church-yard,  beside  the  beings  he 
best  loved,  on  the  spot  he  frequented  in  life  and 
hallowed  by  his  genius,  among  those  whose 
virtues  he  sang ;  here  his  grave  perpetually  em- 
phasizes the  sublime  teachings  of  his  verse  and 
affords  a  most  touching  association.  The  only 
inscription  upon  the  slab  is  the  poet's  tribute  to 
his  aunt,  Mary  Antrobus,  and  to  *'  Dorothy 
Gray,  the  careful  and  tender  mother  of  many 

44 


Stoke-Poois  Church 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

we  are,  therefore,  the  more  impressed  by  the 
fitting  simplicity  of  the  poet's  tomb  among  the 
humble  dead  whose  artless  tale  he  told.  At 
the  grave  of  Gray,  how  tawdry  seems  the  pomp 
of  those  kingly  mausoleums,  how  mean  some 
of  the  lives  the  bedizened  monuments  commem- 
orate, of  how  little  consequence  that  the  world 
should  know  where  such  dust  is  hid  from  sight ! 
At  the  grave  of  Gray,  if  anywhere  the  wide 
world  round,  we  will  correctly  value  the  vanities, 
ambitions,  and  rewards  of  earth.  Gray's  desire 
to  be  buried  here  saved  him  from  what  some 
one  has  called  rhe  "  misfortune  of  burial  in 
Westminster."  While  the  pilgrim  vainly  seeks 
in  that  national  mausoleum  the  tombs  of  Shake- 
speare, Milton,  Byron,  Gray,  Wordsworth, 
Thackeray,  Coleridge,  Eliot,  and  others  of  di- 
vine geniu8,  and  finds  instead  the  graves  of  many 
sordid  and  impure,  '  ment  there  may  be  a 

misfortune.  Happn^  nr  poet  of  the  Elegy 
reposes  in  his  church-yard,  beside  the  beings  he 
best  loved,  on  the  spot  he  frequented  in  life  and 
hallowed  by  his  genius,  among  those  whose 
virtues  he  sang;  here  his  grave  perpetually  em- 
phasizes the  sublime  teachings  of  his  verse  and 
affords  a  most  touching  association.  The  only 
inscription  upon  the  slab  is  the  poet's  tribute  to 
his  aunt,  Mary  Antrobus,  and  to  "  Dorothy 
Gray,  the  careful  and  tender  mother  of  many 

H-3HUHj^ilU0M-aJt0T2 


The  Ivy-Mantled  Church 

children,  of  whom  one  alone  had  the  misfortune 
to  survive  her."  It  has  been  our  pleasure  on  a 
previous  day  to  seek  out  amid  the  din  of  London 
the  spot  where,  in  a  modest  dwelling,  this 
mother  gave  birth  to  the  poet,  and  where  she 
and  Mary  Antrobus  sold  laces  to  maintain  the 
**  many  children." 

Set  upon  a  gentle  eminence  in  the  midst  of 
this  peaceful  scene,  the  church  has  a  picturesque 
beautv  which  harmonizes  well  with  its  environ- 
ment.  It  is  low  and  sombre,  but  age  has  given 
a  dignity  and  grace  which  would  make  it  attrac- 
tive apart  from  its  associations.  Overrunning 
the  walls,  shrouding  the  crumbling  battlements 
of  the  tower,  clambering  along  the  steep  roofs, 
clinging  to  the  highest  gables,  and  festooning  the 
stained  windows,  are  masses  of  dark  ivy,  which 
conceal  the  inroads  of  time  and  impart  to  the 
whole  structure  a  beauty  that  wins  us  com- 
pletely. The  tower  is  early  English,  the  chan- 
cel is  Norman,  and  the  newer  portions  of  the 
edifice  were  already  old  when  Gray  frequented 
the  place.  A  path  bordered  by  abundant  roses 
leads  from  the  gate-way  of  the  enclosure  to  the 
quaint  porch  of  timbers  and  the  entrance  to  the 
church.  Within,  the  light  falls  dimly  at  this 
hour  upon  the  curious  little  galleries  of  the 
peasantry,  the  great  pew  of  the  Penns,  the 
humbler  place  at  the  end  of  the  south  aisle  where 

45 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

Gray  came  to  pray,  the  huge  mural  tablet  and 
the  burial  vault  where  the  son  of  William  Penn 
and  his  family  sleep  in  death.  In  the  park  close 
by  is  the  palace  of  the  Penns,  and  the  mansion 
where  Charles  I.  was  imprisoned  and  where 
Coke  wrote  some  of  his  Commentaries  and  enter- 
tained his  queen.  Not  far  distant  is  the  house 
— now  a  fine  abode — which  Gray  shared  for 
some  years  with  his  mother  and  aunt,  and  where 
his  bedroom  and  study  may  still  be  seen.  Far- 
ther away  are  the  Beaconsfield  which  furnished 
the  title  of  the  gifted  author  of  "  Lothair,"  and 
the  old  church  where  Burke  and  Waller  await 
the  resurrection. 

In  the  twilight  we  hastily  sketch  Gray's  "  ivy- 
mantled  tower,"  and  then  sit  by  his  tomb  gazing 
upon  the  fading  landscape  and  recalling  the  life 
of  this  divine  poet  and  the  lines  of  the  match- 
less poem  which  was  drafted  here  and  with  ex- 
quisite care  revised  and  polished  year  after  year 
before  it  was  given  to  the  world.  It  may  not 
be  generally  known  that  he  discarded  six  stanzas 
from  the  original  draft, — among  them  this,  writ- 
ten as  the  fourth  stanza  : 


"  Hark,  how  the  sacred  calm  that  breathes  around 
Bids  every  fierce,  tumultuous  passion  cease ; 
In  still  small  accents  whispering  from  the  ground 
A  grateful  earnest  of  eternal  peace  ; '  * 
46 


Discarded  Stanzas 

this,    from    the    reply    of    the    "  hoary-headed 


swain :" 


"  Him  have  we  seen  the  greenwood  side  along 

While  o'er  the  heath  we  hied,  our  labor  done, 
Oft  as  the  wood-lark  piped  her  farewell  song 
With  wistful  eyes  pursue  the  setting  sun ;" 

and  this,     from   the    description   of  the   poet's 
grave : 

"  There  scattered  oft,  the  earliest  of  the  year, 

By  hands  unseen,  are  showers  of  violets  found; 
The  redbreast  loves  to  build  and  warble  there, 
And  little  footsteps  lightly  print  the  ground." 

We  may  judge  what  was  the  high  standard  of 
Gray,  and  what  the  transcending  quality  of  the 
finished  poem  from  which  its  author  could, 
after  years  of  deliberation,  reject  such  stanzas. 
The  Elegy  is  the  expression  in  divinest  poetry 
of  the  best  conceptions  of  a  noble  soul  upon 
the  most  serious  topic  on  which  human  thought 
can  dwell.  No  wonder  that  the  world  has 
literally  learned  by  heart  those  precious  lines ; 
that  they  are  the  solace  of  the  thoughtful  and 
the  bereft  in  every  clime  where  mortals  meditate 
on  death ;  that  the  brave  Wolfe,  on  the  way  to 
his  triumphal  death,  should  recite  them  in  the 
darkness  and  declare  he  had  rather  be  their 
author  than  the  victor  in  the  morrow's  battle ; 

47 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

that  the  great  Webster,  on  his  death-bed,  should 
beg  to  hear  them,  and  die  at  last  with  their 
melody  sounding  in  his  ears. 

As  the  glow  fades  out  of  the  darkening  sky, 
the  birds  in  the  leafy  elms  one  by  one  cease 
their  songs,  "  the  lowing  herds  wind  slowly 
o'er  the  lea"  to  distant  folds,  the  "  drowsy 
tinklings"  grow  fainter,  the  summer  wind  sigh- 
ing among  the  trees  dies  with  the  day,  and  the 
scene  which  seemed  still  before  is  noiseless  now. 
In  this  hush  we  are  content  to  leave  this  death- 
less poet  and  the  spot  he  loved.  We  gather  ivy 
from  the  old  wall  and  a  spray  from  the  boughs 
of  his  dreaming  yew,  and  take  our  way  back  to 
the  busy  haunts  of  men. 


48 


DICKENSLAND:    GAD'S    HILL 
AND   ABOUT 


Chaucer's  Pilgrims-Fahtaff-Dukens' s  Abode-Study-Grounds 
—JValh  —  Neighbor s  —  Guests  —  Scenes  of  Tales  —  Cobham— 
Rochest-er-Pi^^ s  Church- Yard—Satis  House,  etc. 

*'  'T^O  go  to  Gad's  Hill,"  said  Dickens,  in  a 
"^  note  of  invitation,  **  you  leave  Charing 
Cross  at  nine  o'clock  by  North  Kent  Railway 
for  Higham."  Guided  by  these  directions  and 
equipped  with  a  letter  from  Dickens's  son,  we 
find  ourselves  gliding  eastward  among  the  chim- 
neys of  London  and,  a  little  later,  emerging  into 
the  fields  of  Kent, — ^Jingle's  region  of  **  apples, 
cherries,  hops,  and  women."  The  Thames  is 
on  our  left ;  we  pass  many  river-towns, — Dart- 
ford  where  Wat  Tyler  lived,  Gravesend  where 
Pocahontas  died, — but  most  of  our  way  is  through 
the  open  country,  where  we  have  glimpses  of 
fields,  parks,  and  leafy  lanes,  with  here  and 
ihere  picturesque  camps  of  gypsies  or  of  peripa- 
tetic rascals  "  goin'  a-hoppin'."  From  wretched 
Higham  a  walk  of  half  an  hour  among  orchards 
and  between  hedges  of  wild-rose  and  honey- 
suckle brings  us  to  the  hill  which  Shakespeare 
and  Dickens  have  made  classic  ground,  and  soon 
we  see,  above  the  tree-tops,  the  glittering  vane 
which  surmounted  the  home  of  the  world's 
D  49 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

greatest  novelist.  The  name  Gad's  (vagabond's) 
Hill  is  a  survival  of  the  time  when  the  depre- 
dations of  highwaymen  upon  "  pilgrims  going 
to  Canterbury  with  rich  offerings  and  traders 
riding  to  London  with  fat  purses"  gave  to  this 
spot  the  ill  repute  it  had  in  Shakespeare's  day  : 
it  was  here  he  located  FalstafF's  great  exploit. 
The  tuft  of  evergreens  which  crowns  the  hill 
about  Dickens's  retreat  is  the  remnant  of  thick 
woods  once  closely  bordering  the  highway,  in 
which  the  *'  men  in  buckram"  lay  concealed, 
and  the  robbery  of  the  franklin  was  committed 
in  front  of  the  spot  where  the  Dickens  house 
stands.  By  this  road  passed  Chaucer,  who  had 
property  near  by,  gathering  from  the  pilgrims 
his  "  Canterbury  Tales."  In  all  time  to  come 
the  great  master  of  romance  who  came  here  to 
live  and  die  will  be  worthily  associated  with 
Shakespeare  and  Chaucer  in  the  renown  of  Gad's 
Hill.  In  becoming  possessor  of  this  place, 
Dickens  realized  a  dream  of  his  boyhood  and 
an  ambition  of  his  life.  In  one  of  his  travellers' 
sketches  he  introduces  a  "  queer  small  boy" 
(himself)  gazing  at  Gad's  Hill  House  and  pre- 
dicting his  future  ownership,  which  the  author 
finds  annoying  "because  it  happens  to  be  my 
house  and  I  believe  what  he  said  was  true." 
When  at  last  the  place  was  for  sale,  Dickens 
did  not  wait  to  examine  it ;  he  never  was  inside 

50 


Gad's  Hill  House 

the  house  until  he  went  to  direct  its  repair. 
Eighteen  hundred  pounds  was  the  price ;  a 
thousand  more  were  expended  for  enlargement 
of  the  grounds  and  alterations  of  the  house, 
which,  despite  his  declaration  that  he  had 
"  stuck  bits  upon  it  in  all  manner  of  ways," 
did  not  greatly  change  it  from  what  it  was  when 
it  became  the  goal  of  his  childish  aspirations. 
At  first  it  was  his  summer  residence  merely, — 
his  wife  came  with  him  the  first  summer, — but 
three  years  later  he  sold  Tavistock  House,  and 
Gad's  Hill  was  thenceforth  his  home.  Frem 
the  bustle  and  din  of  the  city  he  returned  to  the 
haunts  of  his  boyhood  to  find  restful  quiet  and 
time  for  leisurely  work  among  these  "  blessed 
woods  and  fields"  which  had  ever  held  his 
heart.  For  nine  years  after  the  death  of  Dick- 
ens Gad's  Hill  was  occupied  by  his  oldest  son ; 
its  ownership  has  since  twice  or  thrice  changed. 
Its  elevated  site  and  commanding  view  render 
it  one  of  the  most  conspicuous,  as  it  is  one  of 
the  most  lovely,  spots  in  Kent.  The  mansion 
is  an  unpretentious,  old-fashioned,  two-storied 
structure  of  fourteen  rooms.  Its  brick  walls  are 
surmounted  by  Mansard  roofs  above  which  rises 
a  bell-turret ;  a  pillared  portico,  where  Dickens 
sat  with  his  family  on  summer  evenings,  shades 
the  front  entrance ;  wide  bay-windows  project 
upon    either    side ;  flowers    and    vines    clamber 

SI 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

upon  the  walls,  and  a  delightfully  home-like  air 
pervades  the  place.  It  seems  withal  a  modest 
seat  for  one  who  left  half  a  million  dollars  at  his 
death.  At  the  right  of  the  entrance-hall  we  see 
Dickens's  library  and  study,  a  cosy  room  shown 
in  the  picture  of  "  The  Empty  Chair  :"  here 
are  shelves  which  held  his  books;  the  panels  he 
decorated  with  counterfeit  book-backs  ;  the  nook 
where  perched  the  mounted  remains  of  his 
raven,  the  "  Grip"  of  "  Barnaby  Rudge."  By 
this  bay-window,  whence  he  could  look  across 
the  lawn  to  the  cedars  beyond  the  highway, 
stood  his  chair  and  the  desk  where  he  wrote 
many  of  the  works  by  which  the  world  will 
know  him  alway.  Behind  the  study  was  his 
billiard-room,  and  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the 
hall  the  parlor,  with  the  dining-room  adjoining 
it  at  the  back,  both  bedecked  with  the  many  mir- 
rors which  delighted  the  master.  Opening  out 
of  these  rooms  is  a  conservatory,  paid  for  out  of 
**  the  golden  shower  from  America"  and  com- 
pleted but  a  few  days  before  Dickens's  death, 
holding  yet  the  ferns  he  tended.  The  dining- 
room  was  the  scene  of  much  of  that  emphatic 
hospitality  which  it  pleased  the  novelist  to  dis- 
pense, his  exuberant  spirits  making  him  the 
leader  in  all  the  jollity  and  conviviality  of  the 
board.  Here  he  compounded  for  bibulous 
guests  his  famous  "  cider-cup  of   Gad's  Hill," 

5^ 


Gad's  Hill — House  and  Grounds 

and  at  the  same  table  he  was  stricken  with  death  ; 
on  a  couch  beneath  yonder  window,  the  one 
nearest  the  hall,  he  died  on  the  anniversary  of 
the  railway  accident  which  so  frightfully  im- 
perilled his  life.  From  this  window  we  look 
out  upon  a  lawn  decked  with  shrubbery  and  see 
across  undulating  cornfields  his  beloved  Cob- 
ham.  From  the  parquetted  hall,  stairs  lead 
to  the  modest  chambers, — that  of  Dickens  being 
above  the  drawing-room.  He  lined  the  stair- 
way with  prints  of  Hogarth's  works,  and  de- 
clared he  never  came  down  the  stairs  without 
pausing  to  wonder  at  the  sagacity  and  skill 
which  had  produced  the  masterful  pictures  of 
human  life.  The  house  is  invested  with  roses, 
and  parterres  of  the  red  geraniums  which  the 
master  loved  are  ranged  upon  every  side.  It 
was  some  fresh  manifestation  of  his  passion  for 
these  flowers  that  elicited  from  his  daughter  the 
averment,  "  Papa,  I  think  when  you  are  an 
angel  your  wings  will  be  made  of  looking- 
glasses  and  your  crown  of  scarlet  geraniums." 
Beneath  a  rose-tree  not  far  from  the  window 
where  Dickens  died,  a  bed  blooming  with  blue 
lobelia  holds  the  tiny  grave  of  "  Dick"  and  the 
tender  memorial  of  the  novelist  to  that  "  Best 
of  Birds."  The  row  of  gleaming  limes  which 
shadow  the  porch  was  planted  by  Dickens's 
own  hands.     The  pedestal  of  the  sundial  upon 

S3 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

the  lawn  is  a  massive  balustrade  of  the  old  stone 
bridge  at  near-by  Rochester,  which  little  David 
Copperlield  crossed  "  foot-sore  and  weary"  on 
his  way  to  his  aunt,  and  from  which  Pickwick 
contemplated  the  castle-ruin,  the  cathedral,  the 
peaceful  Medway.  At  the  left  of  the  mansion 
are  the  carriage-house  and  the  school-room  of 
Dickens's  sons.  In  another  portion  of  the 
grounds  are  his  tennis-court  and  the  bowling- 
green  which  he  prepared,  where  he  became  a 
skilful  and  tireless  player.  The  broad  meadow 
beyond  the  lawn  was  a  later  purchase,  and  the 
many  limes  which  beautify  it  were  rooted  by 
Dickens.  Here  numerous  cricket  matches  were 
played,  and  he  would  watch  the  players  or  keep 
the  score  "the  whole  day  long."  It  was  in 
this  meadow  that  he  rehearsed  his  readings,  and 
his  talking,  laughing,  weeping,  and  gesticulating 
here  "  all  to  himself"  excited  among  his  neigh- 
bors suspicion  of  his  insanity.  From  the  front 
lawn  a  tunnel  constructed  by  Dickens  passes 
beneath  the  highway  to  "  The  Wilderness,"  a 
thickly  wooded  shrubbery,  where  magnificent 
cedars  uprear  their  venerable  forms  and  many 
sombre  firs,  survivors  of  the  forest  which  erst 
covered  the  countryside,  cluster  upon  the  hill- 
top. Here  Dickens's  favorite  dog,  the  "  Linda" 
of  his  letters,  lies  buried.  Amid  the  leafy  se- 
clusion of  this  retreat,  and   upon  the  very  spot 

54 


Dickens's  Chalet 

where  FalstafF  was  routed  by  Hal  and  Poins 
("  the  eleven  men  in  buckram"),  Dickens 
erected  the  chalet  sent  to  him  in  pieces  by 
Fechter,  the  upper  room  of  which — up  among 
the  quivering  boughs,  where  "  birds  and  butter- 
flies fly  in  and  out,  and  green  branches  shoot  in 
at  the  windows" — Dickens  lined  with  mirrors 
and  used  as  his  study  in  summer.  Of  the  work 
produced  at  Gad's  Hill — "  Two  Cities,"  "  Un- 
commercial Traveller,"  "  Mutual  Friend,"  "Ed- 
win Drood,"  and  many  tales  and  sketches  of  "  All 
the  Year  Round" — much  was  written  in  this 
leaf-environed  nook ;  here  the  master  wrought 
through  the  golden  hours  of  his  last  day  of  con- 
scious life,  here  he  wrote  his  last  paragraph  and 
at  the  close  of  that  June  day  let  fall  his  pen, 
never  to  take  it  up  again.  From  the  place  of  the 
chalet  we  behold  the  view  which  delighted  the 
heart  of  Dickens, — his  desk  was  so  placed  that 
his  eyes  would  rest  upon  this  view  whenever  he 
raised  them  from  his  work, — the  fields  of  waving 
corn,  the  green  expanse  of  meadows,  the  sail- 
dotted  river. 

Many  friends  came  to  Dickens  in  this  pleasant 
Kentish  home, — Forster,  Maclise,  Reade,  Ma- 
cready.  Leech,  Collins,  Yates,  Hans  Christian 
Andersen,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fields,  Longfellow  and 
his  daughters,  Fechter  and  his  wife :  some  of 
them  were  guests  here  for  many  days  together. 

SS 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

The  master  was  the  most  genial  of  hosts,  appar- 
ently the  happiest  of  men,  with  the  hearty 
laugh  which  Montaigne  says  never  comes  from 
a  bad  heart.  After  the  morning  task  in  library 
or  chalet  he  gave  the  rest  of  the  day  to  exercise 
and  recreation,  often  at  games  with  his  guests 
in  the  grounds,  but  taking  daily  in  rain  or  shine 
the  long  walks  which  made  his  lithe  figure  and 
rapid  gait  familiar  to  all  the  cottagers  and  field- 
laborers  of  the  countryside.  It  is  pleasant  to 
hear  the  loving  testimony  of  these  simple  folk 
— many  of  them  descendants  of  the  "  men  of 
Kent"  who  followed  the  standard  of  Wat  Tyler 
from  Blackheath  to  London — concerning  Dick- 
ens's uniform  kindness,  his  helpful  generosity, 
his  scrupulous  regard  of  the  rights  of  inferiors, 
the  traits  which  won  their  hearts.  One  rustic 
neighbor  declares,  "  Dickens  was  a  main  good 
man,  sir  :  it  was  a  sorry  day  for  the  neighborhood 
when  he  was  taken  away."  Near  the  gate  of 
Gad's  Hill  House  is  a  wayside  inn,  the  "  Sir 
John  Falstaff,"  which  for  more  than  two  cen- 
turies has  stood  for  remembrance  of  that  worthy's 
exploit  at  this  place.  Its  weather-worn  sign 
bears  portraits  of  Falstaff  and  Prince  Hal  and  a 
picture  of  the  "  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor"  put- 
ting FalstafF  into  the  basket.  The  name  of  a 
son  of  the  recent  keeper  of  this  hostelry,  Ed- 
ward Trood,  doubtless  suggested  the  title  of  the 

56 


Scenes  of  Great  Expectations 

**  Mystery"  which  must,  alas !  remain  a  mystery 
evermore. 

From  the  inn  a  lane  leads  to  a  sightly  summit 
surmounted     by    a    monument    which    Dickens 
called  "  Andersen's  Monument,"  because  it  was 
the    resort    of  that    illustrious    author    while    a 
guest  at  Gad's  Hill.     Its  far-reaching  prospect 
is  indeed  alluring  :  on  every  hand  vast,  wave- 
like expanses  of  forest  and  orchard,  moor  and 
mead,  sweep  away  to  the  horizon,  while  north- 
ward, beyond  great  cornfields  and  market-gardens, 
we  see  twenty  miles  of  the  Thames — "  stealing 
steadily  away   to  the  ocean,  like  a  man's  life" 
— bordered  here  by  a  wilderness   of  low-lying 
marsh.     A  walk  beloved  of  Dickens  brings  us 
to  one  of  his  favorite  haunts, — a  dreary  church- 
yard on   the  margin   of  this  marsh.     It  lies  in 
the  dismal,  ague-haunted  "  hundred  of  Loo,"  a 
peninsula  between  the  Thames  and  the  Medway 
having  a  broad  hem  of  desolate  fens  along  the 
river-banks — a  weird,  little  known  region,  whose 
ancient    reputation  was    unsavory.     A    wooden 
finger  on  a  post  directs  us  to  Cooling, — Dickens 
makes  Pip  say  that  this  direction  was  never  ac- 
cepted,  no   one  ever  came, — a   forlorn    hamlet 
which  straggles  about  the  ruins  of  Cooling  Cas- 
tle.    This  was  an  ancient  seat  of  the  Cobhams ; 
through  a  Cobham  heiress  it  passed  to  Oldcastle, 
leader  of  the  Lollards,  who  shut  himself  up  here 

57 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

and  was  dragged  hence  to  martyrdom.  It  is 
noteworthy  that  this  Oldcastle  has  been  thought 
to  be  the  original  of  FalstafF,  the  hero  of  Gad's 
Hill.  Of  the  stronghold  little  remains  save  the 
machicolated  gate-way,  flanked  with  ponderous 
round  towers  bearing  quaint  inscriptions.  The 
water  of  the  moat  is  green  and  stagnant,  sug- 
gesting frogs  and  rheumatism,  and  the  space  it 
encloses  is  occupied  by  the  cottage  of  a  farmer. 
The  forge  and  cottage  of  Joe  Gargery  are  not 
found  in  the  wretched  village, — indeed,  we 
should  be  sorry  to  find  that  splendid  fellow  and 
the  good  Betty  so  poorly  housed, — but  beyond 
the  narrow  street  and  at  the  verge  of  the  marshes 
we  come  to  a  low,  quaint,  square-towered  old 
church,  which  rises  from  a  wind-swept,  nettle- 
grown  church-yard,  the  scene  of  the  opening 
chapter  of  "  Great  Expectations."  Yonder 
mound,  whose  gravestone  is  inscribed  to  George 
Comfort,  "  Also  Sarah,  Wife  of  the  Above," 
stands  for  the  tomb  of  Pip's  parents  ;  and  sunken 
in  the  grass  at  our  feet  is  the  row  of  little  grave- 
stones whose  curious  shape  led  Pip  to  believe 
that  his  little  brothers  (whose  graves  they 
marked)  "  had  been  born  on  their  backs,  with 
their  hands  in  their  trousers  pockets,  and  had 
never  taken  them  out  in  this  stage  of  existence." 
Over  this  low  wall  which  divides  God's-acre 
from  the  marshes  the  convict  climbed,  and  we, 

58 


The  Marshes — Cobham 

standing  upon  it,  look  across  the  scene  of  his 
chase  and  capture,  which  Pip  witnessed  from 
Joe's  back.  On  this  sombre  autumn  afternoon 
of  our  visit  the  landscape  is  startlingly  like  that 
the  terrified  boy  beheld  :  we  see  the  same  far- 
stretching  waste  of  marshes,  the  intersecting 
dikes,  the  low,  leaden  line  of  the  river  beyond, 
dark  mists  hanging  heavy  over  all,  while  the 
chill  wind  blows  in  our  faces  from  its  "  savage 
lair"  in  the  sea.  Upon  yonder  flat  tombstone 
in  the  far  corner  of  the  church-yard  Dickens  sat 
and  lunched  with  Fields  when  he  last  walked  to 
this  place.  Hidden  now  in  the  mists,  but  not 
far  distant,  and  reached  by  a  foot-path  from  the 
road  to  Chalk,  is  a  dirty  and  dilapidated  Thames- 
side  inn,  whose  creaking  sign-board  reads,  "  Ship 
and  Lobster :"  this  is  The  Ship  of  "  Great  Ex- 
pectations," where  Pip  and  his  party  slept  the 
night  preceding  their  attempt  to  put  Magwich 
on  the  steamer,  and  the  open  river  below  the 
little  causeway  is  the  scene  of  their  mischance 
and  the  transport's  recapture. 

The  walk  which  Dickens  most  enjoyed — the 
one  which  was  his  last  before  he  died — was  to 
and  around  Cobham,  the  seat  of  his  friend 
Darnley.  We  follow  the  way  once  so  familiar 
to  his  feet,  through  the  noble  park  which  the 
Pickwick  Club  found  "so  thoroughly  delightful," 
on   a  June   afternoon,   by   the    stately   old    hall 

59 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

where  lately  stood  Dickens's  chalet,  and  farther, 
through  majestic  forest  and  open  glade,  to  the 
place  whence  Pickwick — overcome  by  cold 
punch — was  wheeled  to  the  pound.  Skirting 
the  park  on  our  return,  we  come  to  Cobham 
village  and  the  neat  Leather  Bottle  Inn  to  which 
the  lovelorn  Tupman  retired  to  conceal  his  woe 
after  his  discomfiture  at  Manor  Farm,  and  where 
Dickens  himself,  rambling  in  the  neighborhood 
with  Forster,  lodged  in  1841.  Here  is  the 
little  church-yard  where  Pickwick  walked  with 
Tupman  and  persuaded  him  to  return  to  the 
world,  and  hard  by  the  cottage  of  Bill  Stumps, 
before  which  Pickwick  made  the  immortal  dis- 
covery which  was  "  the  pride  of  his  friends  and 
the  envy  of  every  antiquarian  in  this  or  any 
other  country."  Another  favorite  walk  of 
Dickens  conducts  us,  past  a  quaint,  rambling 
mansion  of  dingy  brick  which  served  as  the 
model  for  Satis  House  of"  Great  Expectations," 
to  Rochester,  the  Cloisterham  of  "  Edwin 
Drood."  Here  we  find  the  Bull  Inn, — "  good 
house,  nice  beds," — where  the  Pickwick  Club 
lodged,  in  rooms  13  and  19,  and  the  ballroom, 
where  Tupman  and  Jingle  (the  latter  in  Winkle's 
coat)  danced  with  the  widow  and  enraged  little 
Slammer;  the  Watt's  Charity  of  "  The  Uncom- 
mercial Traveller ;"  the  picturesque  castle-ruin 
which  Dickens  frequented  and  has  so  charmingly 

60 


Cloisterham — Land  of  Dickens 

described.  Here,  too,  is  the  gray  old  cathedral 
he  loved,  which  appears  in  many  of  his  tales, 
from  Jingle's  piquant  account  of  it  in  "  Pickwick" 
to  that  touching  description  of  this  ancient  fane 
in  the  last  lines  of  the  master,  written  within 
sound  of  its  bells  and  but  a  few  hours  before 
his  death. 

This  region  of  sunny  Kent,  the  scene  of  his 
earliest  and  latest  years,  may  fitly  be  called  The 
Land  of  Dickens,  so  intimately  is  it  associated 
with  his  life  and  work.  Here  at  near-by  Chat- 
ham (whence  he  used  to  come  to  gaze  longingly 
at  Gad's  Hill  House),  in  a  whitewashed  cottage 
on  Ordnance  Place,  he  lived  as  a  child ;  at 
yonder  village  of  Chalk  he  spent  his  honey- 
moon, its  expenses  being  defrayed  by  the  sale 
of  the  first  numbers  of  "  Pickwick  ;"  here  were 
the  habitual  resorts  of  his  holiday  leisure  ;  here 
was  his  latest  home  ;  here  he  died,  and  here  he 
desired  to  be  buried.  This  district  was  no  less 
the  life-haunt  and  home  of  his  imagination  and 
genius.  The  scenes  of  his  most  effective  ro- 
mances are  laid  here ;  into  the  fabric  of  many 
a  tale  and  sketch  his  fancy  has  woven  the  fa- 
miliar features  of  town  and  hamlet,  field  and 
forest,  marsh  and  river,  of  the  region  he  knew 
and  loved  so  well ;  here  his  first  tale  opens, 
here  his  last  tale  ends. 


6t 


SOME   HAUNTS  OF  BYRON 

Birthplace  -  London  Homes  -  Murray^  Book-Store  -  Kensal 
Green  -  Harrow  -  Byron  s  Tomb  -  His  Diadem  Hill  - 
Abode  of  his  Star  of  Anneshy  -  Portraits  —  Mementos. 

/^F  the  places  in  and  about  great  London 
which  were  associated  with  the  brief  life 
of  Byron,  the  rage  for  improvement  which  holds 
nothing  sacred  has  spared  a  few,  and  the  quest 
for  Byron-haunts  is  still  fairly  rewarded.  Holies 
Street,  where  he  was  born,  has  not  long  been  re- 
signed to  trade :  we  have  known  it  as  a  somno- 
lent little  street  whose  grateful  quiet — reached 
by  a  step  from  the  tumult  of  De  Quincey's 
"stony-hearted  step-mother"  —  made  it  seem 
like  a  placid  pool  beside  a  riotous  torrent.  It  is 
scarce  a  furlong  in  length,  and  from  the  shade  of 
Cavendish  Square  at  its  extremity  we  could  look, 
between  bordering  rows  of  modest  dwellings,  to 
the  square  where  Ralph  Nickleby  lived  and 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu  died.  At  our  right,  a 
little  way  down  the  street,  stood  a  small,  plain, 
two-storied  house  of  dingy  brick,  where  the 
poet's  mother  lodged  in  the  upper  front  room  at 
the  time  of  his  birth.  This  dwelling  was  No. 
16,  later  24,  and  has  now  given  place  to  a  shop. 
An  unpretentious  tenement  near  Sloane  Square 
was  Byron's  home  during  his  pupilage  with  Dr. 
Glennie. 

62 


London  Homes 

In  the  house  No.  8  St.  James  Street,  nearly 
opposite  the  place  where  Gibbon  died,  Byron 
had  for  some  years  a  suite  of  rooms.  Here  he 
was  convenient  to  Almack's  aristocratic  ball- 
rooms and  St.  James  Theatre,  and  was  in  the  then, 
as  it  is  now,  centre  of  fashionable  club-life. 
His  residence  here  began  when  he  came  to  Lon- 
don to  publish  "  Bards  and  Reviewers,"  was 
resumed  upon  his  return  from  the  Levantine  tour, 
and  continued  during  the  publication  of  the  early 
cantos  of  *'  Childe  Harold"  and  other  poems 
written  on  that  tour.  In  these  rooms  "  Cor- 
sair," "  The  Giaour,"  and  "  Bride  of  Abydos" 
were  written,  the  latter  in  a  single  night  and 
with  one  quill.  The  last  year  of  Byron's  resi- 
dence here  was  the  period  of  his  highest  popu- 
larity, when  he  was  the  especial  pet  of  London 
society  queens,  one  of  whom — who  later  wrote 
a  book  to  defame  him — was  recognized  in  bifur- 
cated masculine  garb  in  these  chambers.  On  the 
same  street  is  the  home  of  White's  Club,  the 
Bays'  of  "  Pendennis,"  of  which  the  present 
Lord  Byron  is  a  member,  and  on  the  site  of  the 
Carlton  Club,  Pall  Mall,  stood  the  Star  and 
Garter  tavern,  where,  in  room  No.  7  at  the 
right  on  the  first  floor,  the  poet's  predecessor 
killed  his  neighbor  Chaworth,  grand-uncle  of 
Byron's  "  star  of  Annesley."  Adjoining  the 
Academy  of  Arts  in  Piccadilly  is  that  "  college 

63 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

of  bachelors,"  the  Albany  apartment  house  where 
Dickens  lodged  "  Fascination"  Fledgeby  and  laid 
the  scene  of  his  flagellation  by  Lammle  and  the 
dressing  of  his  wounds  with  pepper  by  Jenny 
Wren.  Here  the  handsome  suite  A  2  was  the 
abode  of  Byron  for  the  year  or  so  preceding  his 
hapless  marriage,  and  here  "  Lara"  and  '*  Hebrew 
Melodies"  were  written.  The  poet  had  passed 
the  zenith  of  the  social  horizon,  and  the  "  Byron- 
madness"  was  waning,  when  he  came  to  the 
Albany ;  still,  the  visits  of  fair  admirers  were 
vouchsafed  him  in  these  rooms.  It  was  here 
that  the  girl  whose  story  Guiccioli  adduces  as 
evidence  of  Byron's  virtuous  self-denial  came  to 
him  for  counsel.  If  the  partiality  of  his  mis- 
tress has  unduly  praised  his  conduct  at  this  time, 
it  is  a  thousandfold  outweighed  by  the  bitter- 
ness of  another  narrative — happily  discredited, 
if  not  disproven — which  indicates  this  same 
period  as  being  that  of  the  beginning  of  a  /iaison 
with  his  sister.  To  these  rooms  Moore  was  a 
daily  visitant,  and  Canning  then  lodged  on  the 
second  floor  adjoining  the  suite  E  i,  where 
Macaulay  wrote  the  "  History  ol"  England"  and 
many  essays.  Byron's  last  abode  in  London  v/as 
a  stately  house  in  Piccadilly,  opposite  Green 
Park  and  not  far  from  the  then  London  sojourn 
of  Scott.  Byron's  dwelling,  now  No.  139, 
belonged    to   the    Duchess    of  Devon,   and   was 

©4 


London  Homes 

known  as  13  Piccadilly  Terrace.  To  this 
elegant  home  he  brought  his  bride  after  the 
"  treacle-moon,"  and  here  passed  the  remainder 
of  their  brief  period  of  cohabitation.  Here 
**  The  Siege  of  Corinth,"  **  Parisina,"  and  many 
minor  poems  were  penned,  the  MS.  of  some 
being  in  the  handwriting  of  his  wife.  Here 
Augusta  Leigh  was  a  guest  warmly  welcomed 
by  Lady  Byron,  despite  her  alleged  knowledge 
of  the  "  shocking  misconduct"  of  Byron  and 
his  sister  in  this  house.  Here  Ada,  **  sole 
daughter  of  his  house  and  heart,"  was  born,  and 
from  here,  a  few  weeks  later,  his  wife  went 
forth,  never  to  see  him  again.  Some  letters  came 
from  her  to  this  home, — playful  notes  to  Byron 
inviting  him  to  follow  her,  affectionate  epistles 
to  the  sister,  then  a  final  letter  announcing  her  de- 
termination never  to  return.  In  the  ten  months 
during  which  Byron  occupied  this  house  it  was 
nine  times  in  possession  of  bailiffs  on  account 
of  his  debts.  It  has  since  been  refaced  and  re- 
paired, but  the  original  rooms  remain.  Hamilton 
Place  now  leads  from  it  to  Hamilton  Gardens, 
where  stands  a  beautiful  statue  of  Byron.  To 
the  mansion  of  Sir  Edward  Knatchbull,  No.  25 
Great  George  Street,  a  site  now  occupied  by  the 
Institute  of  Engineers,  the  corpse  of  Byron  was 
brought  upon  its  arrival  from  Greece ;  and  here 
in  the   great  parlors,  but  a  few  steps  from  the 

E  65 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

spot  where  the  remains  of  Sheridan  had  lain 
eight  years  before,  Byron's  body  lay  in  state 
while  his  friends  vainly  sought  sepulture  for  it  in 
Westminster. 

At  No.  50  Albemarle  Street,  Piccadilly,  not 
far  from  the  Albany,  is  the  establishment  of  John 
Murray,  whose  predecessor,  John  Murray  II., 
published  "  Childe  Harold"  and  all  Byron's 
subsequent  poems  to  the  earlier  cantos  of**  Don 
Juan."  At  this  house  the  poet  was  a  frequent 
and  familiar  lounger.  Here,  in  a  cosy  drawing- 
room  which  is  handsomely  furnished  and  em- 
bellished, Murray  used  to  hold  a  literary  court, 
and  here  Byron  first  shook  hands  with  the 
"  great  Wizard  of  the  North"  and  met  Moore, 
Canning,  Southey,  Gifford,  and  other  litterateurs. 
Scott  afterward  wrote,  "  Byron  and  I  met  for 
an  hour  or  two  daily  in  Murray's  drawing-room, 
and  found  much  to  say  to  each  other."  During 
his  residence  in  London,  Byron  was  customarily 
one  of  the  coterie  of  authors — facetiously  called 
the  "  four  o'clock  club" — which  daily  assembled 
in  this  room.  The  seances  were  frequented  at 
one  time  or  another  by  most  of  the  stars  of 
English  letters,  embracing,  besides  those  above 
named,  Campbell,  Hallam,  Crabbe,  Lockhart, 
Disraeli,  Irving,  George  Ticknor,  etc.  We 
find  the  room  little  changed  since  their  time. 
Original  portraits  of  that  brilliant  company  look 

66 


Murray's 

down  from  the  walls  of  the  room  they  haunted 
in  life,  and  the  visitor  thrills  with  the  thought 
that  in  some  subtile  sense  their  presence  per- 
vades it  still.  In  this  room  Ada  Byron,  kept  in 
ignorance  of  her  father  until  womanhood,  first 
saw  his  handwriting,  and  in  yonder  fireplace 
beneath  his  portrait,  four  days  after  intelligence 
of  his  death  had  reached  London,  the  manu- 
script of  his  much-discussed  "  Memoirs"  was 
burned  at  the  desire  of  Lady  Byron  and  in  the 
presence  of  Moore  and  Byron's  executor.  Hob- 
house,  who  had  witnessed  his  hapless  marriage. 
Until  the  death  of  Byron  his  relations  with 
Murray  were  most  cordial,  and  the  present  John 
Murray  IV.,  grandson  of  Byron's  publisher, 
possesses  numerous  letters  of  the  poet,  some  of 
which  were  used  in  Moore's  **  Life."  Per- 
haps most  interesting  of  Byron's  many  rhyming 
epistles  is  the  one  commencing, — 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Murray, 
You're  in  a  blanked  hurry 
To  set  up  this  ultimate  canto," 

which  announces  the  final  completion  of"  Childe 
Harold."  Among  many  mementos  of  Byron 
cherished  in  this  famous  room  are  the  original 
MSS.  of  "  Bards  and  Reviewers"  and  of  most 
of  his  later  poems.  With  them  are  other 
priceless  MSS.  of  Scott,  Swift,  Gray,  Southey, 

67 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

I  ivingstone,  Irving,  Motley,  etc.  The  Murray 
III.  who  used  to  show  us  these  treasures  with 
reverent  pride,  and  who  could  boast  that  he 
had  known  Byron,  Scott,  and  Goethe,  died  not 
long  ago.  When  we  ask  for  the  Bible  popularly 
believed  to  have  been  given  to  Murray  by  Byron 
with  a  line  so  altered  as  to  read  "  now  Barabbas 
was  a  publisher,'^  we  are  told  this  joke  was 
Campbell's  and  was  upon  another  publisher  than 
Murray.  Byron's  signet-ring  has  passed  to  the 
possession  of  Pierre  Barlow,  Esq.,  of  New  York. 
Litterateurs  still  come  to  "  Murray's  den," 
though  not  so  often  as  in  the  time  when  clubs 
were  less  popular  :  among  those  who  may  some- 
times be  met  here  are  Argyll,  Knight,  Layard, 
DufFerin,  Temple,  Francis  Darwin,  etc.  Mur- 
rays'  was  the  home  of  the  Review — '*  whose 
mission  in  life  is  to  hang,  draw,  and  Quarterly  " 
as  one  victim  avers — to  which  came  Charlotte 
Bronte's  burly  Irish  uncle  with  his  shillalah  in 
search  of  the  harsh  reviewer  of  "Jane  Eyre," 
and  haunted  the  place  until  he  was  turned  away. 
A  most  delightful  outing  is  the  jaunt  from 
Byron's  London  haunts,  past  Kensal  Green, 
where  we  find  the  precious  graves  in  which 
sleep  Thackeray,  Motley,  Cunningham,  Jame- 
son, Hood,  Hunt,  Sydney  Smith,  and  Mrs. 
Hawthorne, — the  latter  beneath  ivy  from  her 
Wayside  home   and   periwinkle  from   her   hus- 

68 


Kensal  Green — Harrow- 
band's  tomb  on  the  piny  hill-top  at  Concord, — 
to  Harrow,  the  "  Ida"  of  Byron's  verse.  Here 
is  the  ancient  school  of  which  Sheridan,  Peel, 
Perceval,  Trollope,  and  others  famous  in  letters 
or  politics  were  inmates ;  where  Byron  was  for 
years  "a  troublesome  and  mischievous  pupil" 
and  made  the  acquaintance  of  Clare,  Dorset, 
and  others  to  whom  some  of  his  poems  are 
addressed,  and  of  Wildman  who  rescued  his 
Newstead  from  ruin :  the  present  Byron  and 
the  son  of  Ada  Byron  were  also  Harrow  boys. 
Here  may  be  seen  some  of  the  poet's  worn  and 
scribbled  books  ;  his  name  graven  by  him  upon 
a  panel  of  the  oldest  building;  the  Peachie 
tombstone — protected  now  by  iron  bars — which 
was  his  evening  resort,  where  some  of  his 
stanzas  were  composed,  and  whence  he  beheld 
a  landscape  of  enchanting  beauty.  Near  this 
beloved  spot,  where  Byron  once  desired  to  be 
entombed,  sleeps  a  sinless  child  of  sin,  his 
daughter  Allegra,  born  of  Mrs.  Shelley's  sister. 
At  Harrow,  Byron  repaid  help  upon  his  exer- 
cises by  fighting  for  his  assistant ;  his  successes 
here  were  mainly  pugilistic,  but  his  battles  were 
often  those  of  younger  and  weaker  boys,  and 
the  spot  where  he  fought  the  tyrants  of  the 
school  is  pointed  out  with  interest  and  pride. 

In  Notts,  en  route  to  Newstead,  we  lodge  in 
an  old  mansion  alleged  to  have  been  the  abode 

69 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

of  the  poet  in  his  school-vacations ;  we  have 
the  high  authority  of  the  landlord  for  the  con- 
viction that  we  occupy  the  room  and  the  very 
bed  oft  used  by  Byron ;  but  the  credulity  even 
of  a  pilgrim  has  a  limit,  and  the  agility  of  the 
fleas  that  now  inhabit  the  bed  forbids  belief 
that  they  too  are  relics  of  the  poet.  Better 
authenticated  are  the  Byron  relics  of  a  local 
society,  among  which  are  the  boot-trees  certified 
by  his  bootmaker  to  be  those  upon  which  the 
poet's  boots  were  fitted.  They  are  of  interest 
as  demonstrating  that  the  asymmetry  of  his  feet 
was  much  less  than  has  been  believed ;  one  foot 
was  shorter  than  its  fellow,  and  the  ankle  was 
weak,  but  not  deformed. 

From  Nottingham  a  winsome  way  along  a 
smiling  vale,  with  billowy  hills  swelling  upon 
either  hand,  conducts  us  to  the  village  of  Huck- 
nall.  By  its  market-place  an  ancient  church- 
tower  rises  from  a  grave-strewn  enclosure ;  we 
enter  the  fane  through  a  porch  of  ponderous 
timbers,  and,  traversing  the  dim  aisle,  approach 
the  chancel  and  find  there  the  tomb  of  Childe 
Harold.  A  slab  of  blue  marble,  sent  by  the 
King  of  Greece  and  bearing  the  word  Byron, 
is  set  in  the  pavement  to  mark  the  spot  where, 
after  the  throes  of  his  passion-tossed  life,  Byron 
lies  among  his  kindred  in  "  the  dreamless  sleep 
that  lulls  the  dead."     One  who,  as  a  lad,  en- 

70 


Tomb  of  Childe  Harold 

tered  the  vault  at  the  burial  of  Ada  Byron,  in- 
dicates for  us  its  size  upon  the  pavement  and  the 
position  of  the  coffins ;  Byron,  in  a  coffin  cov- 
ered with  velvet  and  resting  upon  benches  of 
stone,  lies  betw^een  his  mother  and  the  "  sole 
daughter  of  his  house  and  heart ;"  at  his  feet  a 
receptacle  contains  his  heart  and  brain.  His 
valet  and  the  Little  White  Lady  of  Irving's 
narrative  sleep  in  the  yard  near  by.  A  marble 
tablet  on  the  church  wall  describes  Byron  as  the 
**  Author  of  Childe  Harold's  Pilgrimage  ;"  this 
was  erected  by  his  sister,  and  near  it  we  saw  a 
chaplet  of  faded  laurel  placed  years  ago  by  our 
"  Bard  of  the  Sierras."  Byron's  tomb  has 
never  been  a  popular  shrine,  but  such  Americans 
as  Irving,  Hawthorne,  Halleck,  Ludlow,  Jo- 
aquin Miller,  and  William  Winter  have  been 
reverent  pilgrims.  Once  Byron's  "  Italian  en- 
chantress," la  Guiccioli,  was  found  weeping 
here  and  kissing  the  pavement  which  covers  the 
lover  of  her  youth. 

Above  Hucknall  the  ancestral  domain  of  the 
Byrons  lies  upon  the  right,  while  upon  the  other 
hand  extend  the  broad  lands  which  were  the 
heritage  of  Mary  Ann  Chaworth,  Byron's  "  star 
of  Annesley."  From  the  boundary  of  the  es- 
tates, where  the  poet  sometimes  met  his  youth- 
ful love,  a  stroll  across  a  landscape  parquetted 
with  grain-field  gold  and  meadow  emerald  brings 

71 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

us  to  the  ancient  seat  of  the  time-honored  race 
of  which  the  maiden  of  Byron's  "  Dream" — 
the  "  Mary"  of  many  poems — was  the  "  last 
solitary  scion  left."  It  is  now  the  property  of 
her  great-grandson.  Most  of  her  married  life 
was  passed  elsewhere,  and  Annesley  fell  into 
the  neglected  condition  which  Irving  describes. 
Mary's  husband,  the  maligned  Musters,  instead 
of  hating  the  place  and  seeking  to  destroy  its 
identity,  preferred  it  to  his  other  property,  and 
spent  many  years  after  his  wife's  death  in  re- 
storing and  beautifying  it,  taking  pains  to  pre- 
serve the  grounds  and  the  main  portion  of  the 
mansion  in  the  condition  in  which  his  wife  had 
known  them  in  her  maidenhood.  This  became 
the  beloved  home  of  his  later  years,  and  here  he 
died.  This  mansion  of  the  "  Dream"  stands 
upon  an  elevation  overlooking  many  acres  of 
picturesque  park.  It  is  a  great,  rambling  pile 
of  motley  architecture,  obviously  erected  by 
different  generations  of  Chaworths  to  suit  their 
varying  needs  and  tastes,  but  the  walls  are  over- 
grown with  clambering  vines,  which  conceal 
the  touch  of  time  and  impart  to  the  structure 
an  aspect  of  harmonious  beauty.  The  prin- 
cipal facade  which  presents  along  the  court  is 
imposing  and  stately,  but  on  every  side  are 
pointed  gables,  stone  balustrades,  and  pictu- 
resque   walls.      The    interior    arrangement    of 

72 


Anneslcy  Hall 

the    body   of  the    house    remains    precisely    as 
Mary   knew  it,  even   the  decorations  of  some 
of  the    rooms    having   been    preserved    by   the 
considerate  love  of  her  husband  and  descendants  ; 
and    here,   despite    the    averment  of  a    Byron- 
biographer    that    "  every    relic    of  her    ancient 
family  w^as  sold  and  scattered  to  the  winds,"  the 
Chaworth  plate,  portraits,  and  other  belongings 
are    religiously   cherished.     We  were    first    in- 
vited to  the  place  to  see  these  while   they  were 
yet  displayed  by  the  maid  in  whose  arms  Mary 
died.      Upon  the  v/alls  of  the  great   lower  hall 
are  many  family  pictures,   among  them   that  of 
the   Chaworth   whom    Byron's   great-uncle   had 
slain.     It  was   this  portrait   that  Byron   feared 
would  come  out  of  its  frame  to  haunt  him  if  he 
remained  here  over-night.     From  the  hall  low 
stairs  lead  to  the  apartments.     At  the  right  is 
Mary's  sitting-room,  where  Byron   spent  many 
hours  beside  her,  listening  entranced  while  she 
played  to  him  upon  the  piano  which  stood  in  the 
farther  corner.     It  is  a  pleasant  apartment,  its 
windows    looking    out    upon     the     garden-beds 
Mary  tended,  which  we  see  now  ablaze  with 
the  flowers  known  to  have  been  her  favorites. 
In  this  room,  which  "  her  smiles  had  made  a 
heaven   to   him,"  Byron,  years   afterward,  saw 
Mary  for  the  last  time  and  kissed  for  its  mother's 
sake  "  the  child  that  ought  to  have  been  his." 

73 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

On  this  occasion  she  made  the  inquiry  which 
prompted  the  lines,  "  To  Mrs.  Musters,  on 
being  asked  my  reason  for  quitting  England  in 
the  spring."  This  last  painful  interview  is  re- 
called in  the  poems  "  Well,  Thou  art  Happy" 
and  '*  I've  seen  my  Bride  Another's  Bride." 
Above  the  hall  is  the  large  drawing-room,  where 
we  see  several  portraits  of  Mary,  which  represent 
her  as  a  most  beautiful  woman,  with  a  pa- 
thetically sweet  and  winning  face, — by  no  means 
the  "  wicked-looking  cat"  which  Byron's  jealous 
wife  described.  Here,  too,  are  pictures  of  her 
husband  which  fully  justify  his  popular  sobriquet, 
"  handsome  Jack  Musters."  Physically  they 
were  an  admirably  matched  pair.  Out  of  the 
drawing-room  is  the  **  antique  oratory"  of 
the  poem,  a  small  apartment  above  the  en- 
trance-porch, pictured  as  the  scene  of  Byron's 
parting  with  Mary  after  her  announcement 
of  her  betrothal.  Byron  was  cordially  wel- 
comed at  Annesley ;  the  family  were  his  rela- 
tives, and  all  of  them,  save  that  young  lady 
herself,  would  gladly  have  had  him  marry  the 
heiress.  Among  the  guest-chambers  is  one, 
called  of  yore  the  blue  room,  which  during  one 
summer — after  his  fear  of  the  family  portraits 
had  been  subdued  by  the  greater  fear  of  meet- 
ing •*  bogles"  on  his  homeward  way — Byron 
often  occupied.     Here  he  incensed  Nanny  the 

74 


Annesley  Park — Diadem  Hill 

housekeeper  by  allowing  his  dog  to  sleep  upon 
the  bed  and  soil  her  neat  counterpanes.  An- 
other servant,  "  old  Joe,"  tired  of  sitting  up  at 
night  to  wait  upon  him,  finally  frightened  him 
away  by  means  of  some  hideous  nocturnal 
noises,  which  he  assured  the  young  poet  pro- 
ceeded from  **  spooks  out  of  the  kirk-yard," 
— Byron's  superstition  doubtless  suggesting  the 
ruse. 

Giant  trees  overtop  the  chimneys  and  bower 
the  walls  of  the  venerable  mansion.  The  gar- 
den which  Irving  found  matted  and  wild  was 
long  ago  restored  by  Musters  to  its  former 
beauty  of  turf,  foliage,  and  flower.  A  grand 
terrace, — one  of  the  finest  in  England, — with 
brick  walls  and  carved  balustrades  of  stone  man- 
tled and  draped  with  ivy,  lies  at  the  right,  with 
broad  steps  leading  down  to  the  garden  where 
Byron  delighted  to  linger  with  Mary  during  the 
swift  hours  of  one  too  brief  summer.  Beneath 
the  terrace  is  a  door,  carefully  protected  by 
Musters  and  his  descendants,  which  Byron  daily 
used  as  a  target  and  in  which  we  see  the  marks  of 
bullets  from  his  pistol.  The  grounds  are  ex- 
tensive and  beautifully  diversified  by  copses  of 
great  trees  and  grassy  glades  where  deer  feed 
amid  myriad  witcheries  of  leaf  and  bloom. 
Half  a  mile  from  the  Hall  is  a  shrine  that 
will   attract   the    sentimental   prowler,   Byron's 

75 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

diadem  hill.  Projecting  from  the  extremity  of  a 
long  line  of  eminences,  it  is  a  landmark  to  the 
countryside  and  overlooks  the  living  landscape 
which  the  poet  depicted  in  lines  throbbing  with 
life  and  beauty.  From  its  acclivity  we  see  much 
of  his  ancestral  Newstead,  the  adjoining  fair 
acres  of  Annesley  which  he  would  have  added 
to  his  own,  the  tower  and  chimneys  of  the 
Hall  rising  among  clustering  oaks  :  beyond  these 
darkly  wooded  hills  decline  to  the  valley,  along 
which  we  look — past  parks,  villages,  and  the 
church  where  Byron  sleeps — to  the  spires  of 
the  city.  As  we  contemplate  the  vista  from 
the  spot  where  stood  the  two  bright  "  beings  in 
the  hues  of  youth,"  we  have  about  us  a  ring  of 
dark  firs,  the  "  diadem  of  trees  in  circular  array" 
pictured  in  the  "  Dream,"  apparently  unchanged 
since  the  day  the  maiden  and  the  youth  here 
met  for  the  last  time  before  her  marriage.  The 
Byron-writers  have  united  in  denouncing  Mus- 
ters for  denuding  this  hill-top  in  a  splenetic 
endeavor  to  prevent  its  identification  as  the 
scene  of  the  interview  described  in  the  poem. 
In  truth,  we  owe  the  preservation  of  the  features 
which  identify  this  romantic  spot  to  the  very 
hand  which  the  author  of  "  Crayon  Miscellany" 
avers  is  "  execrated  by  every  poetic  pilgrim." 
When  natural  causes  were  rapidly  destroying 
the  grove.  Musters  caused    its  removal  and  re- 

76 


Byron-Chaworth-Musters 

placed  it  by  saplings  grown  from  cones  of  the 
old  trees,  each  fir  of  the  present  beautiful  diadem 
being  sedulously  rooted  upon  the  site  of  its 
lineal  ancestor.  Musters  had  much  greater  rea- 
son to  regard  this  spot  with  romantic  tenderness 
than  had  the  poet ;  here  he  enjoyed  many  stolen 
interviews  with  his  sweetheart,  for  he  was  for- 
bidden to  see  her  in  her  home,  and  she,  per- 
verse and  persistent  in  her  passion  for  him, 
came  here  daily  with  the  hope  of  meeting  him 
and  watched  for  his  approach  along  the  valley. 
Upon  the  very  occasion  the  poem  describes, 
she  waited  here,  "  Looking  afar  if  yet  her  lover's 
steed  kept  pace  with  her  expectancy,"  and 
merely  tolerated  the  company  of  the  "  gaby" 
boy  Byron  until  Musters  might  arrive.  The 
latter  had  no  reason  for  the  irritable  jealousy 
toward  Byron  which  has  been  attributed  to 
him,  and  there  is  no  evidence  that  he  evinced 
or  entertained  such  a  feeling.  He  freely  invited 
the  poet  to  his  house,  rode  and  swam  with  him, 
preserved  the  few  Byron  mementos  at  Annesley, 
and  protected  the  tombs  of  Byron's  ancestors  at 
Colwick.  So  much  of  untruth  has  been  pub- 
lished anent  the  Byron-Chaworth-Musters  mat- 
ter, and  especially  concerning  the  attitude  of 
the  lady  toward  Byron  and  the  coi]ditions  of 
her  subsequent  life,  that  it  is  pleasant,  even  at 
this   late  day,  to  be  able   to  record  upon   un- 

77 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

doubted  evidence  that  her  loving  admiration  for 
her  husband  ceased  only  with  her  life. 

On  the  bank  of  the  silvery  Trent,  three 
miles  from  Nottingham,  is  Colwick  Hall,  where 
Mary's  married  life  was  spent.  This  was  an 
ancient  seat  of  the  Byrons,  said  to  have  been 
lost  by  them  at  the  card-table.  Mary's  home 
was  an  imposing  mansion,  with  lofty  cupola, 
balustraded  roofs,  and  stately  pediments  upheld 
by  Ionic  columns.  From  the  front  windows 
we  look  across  a  wide  expanse  of  sun-kissed 
meadow  beyond  the  river,  while  at  the  back 
rocky  cliffs  rise  steeply  and  are  tufted  by  over- 
hanging woods.  The  Hall  was  attacked  and 
pillaged  in  1831  by  a  Luddite  mob,  from  whom 
poor  Mary  escaped  half  naked  into  the  shrub- 
bery and  lay  concealed  in  the  cold  wet  night. 
The  exposure  and  terror  of  this  event  impaired 
her  reason,  and  caused  her  death  the  next  year 
at  Wiverton,  another  seat  of  the  Chaworths, 
where  her  descendants  reside.  Close  by  the 
mansion  at  Colwick,  now  a  summer  resort,  was 
the  old  gray  church,  with  battlemented  tower, 
where  Mary  was  married,  and  where  she  lies  in 
death  with  her  husband  and  his  kindred,  near 
the  burial-vault  of  the  ancestors  of  the  lame 
boy  who  linked  her  name  to  deathless  verse. 
At  the  side  of  the  altar  a  beautiful  monumental 
tablet,   bearing   a   graceful   female  figure   and   a 

78 


Mary's  Grave 

laudatory  inscription,  is  placed  in  memory  of 
the  "  star  of  Annesley,"  whose  brightness  went 
out  in  distraction  and  gloom. 

To  Byron's  early  passion  and  its  failure  we 
owe  some  of  the  sweetest  and  tenderest  of  his 
songs  ;  and  it  has  been  believed  that  the  memory 
of  that  defeat  adapted  his  thoughts  to  their 
highest  flights  and  gave  added  pathos  and  beauty 
to  his  noblest  work.  Thus  all  the  world  were 
gainers  by  his  disappointment,  and  evidence  is 
lacking  that  either  the  lady  or  the  lover  was  a 
loser. 


/" 


79 


THE   HOME  OF   CHILDE 
HAROLD 


New  stead- By  ron  i  Apartmenti-Relics  and  Reminders-Ghoits— 
Ruins -The  Toung  Oak -Dog's  Tomb -Devil's  JVood- 
Irving-Livingstone  -Stanley— Joaquin  Miller. 

TTOWEVER  alluring  other  haunts  of  Byron 
•*■  ^  may  be  found,  the  "  hall  of  his  fathers" 
must  remain  paramount  in  the  interest  and  affec- 
tion of  his  admirers.  The  stanzas  he  addressed 
to  that  venerable  pile,  the  graphic  description 
in  "  Don  Juan,"  the  plaintive  allusions  in  "  Childe 
Harold,"  its  own  romantic  history  as  a  mediaeval 
fortress  and  shrine,  and  its  association  with  the 
bard  who  inherited  its  lands  and  dwelt  beneath 
its  battlements,  render  Newstead  Abbey  a  Mecca 
to  which  the  steps  of  pilgrims  tend.  It  came 
to  the  Byrons  by  royal  gift,  and  in  the  middle  of 
the  last  century  was  inherited  by  the  poet's  pre- 
decessor the  Wicked  Byron,  who  killed  his 
neighbor  oi  Annesley  and  so  desolated  the  Abbey 
that  the  only  spot  sheltered  from  the  storms  was 
a  corner  of  the  scullery  where  he  breathed  out 
his  wretched  life.  The  poet  occupied  the  place 
at  intervals  for  twenty  years,  and  then  sold  it  to 
Colonel  Wildman,  who  had  been  his  form-fellow 
at  Harrow,  and  to  whom  we  are  mainly  indebted 
for  the  restoration  of  the  edifice  and  the  preserva- 


-MK-v.^phy.  ^mivf!ii!^mif>iSSh^i**- 


Newstead   Abbey 


THE   HOME  OF   CHILDE 
HA HOLD 


Newstead—B'iron  s  Apartmoitf-Retia  and  Remindert-Ghostt— 
Ruins-  The  Toun^  Oak  -  Dog  i  Tomb- Devil's  Wood- 
Ir-ving-Livingstcne~StanUy~yoaquin  Miller. 

TTOWF.VRR  alluring  other  haunts  of  Byron 
•*■  "^  may  be  found,  the  "  hall  of  his  fathers" 
must  remain  paramount  in  the  interest  and  affec- 
tion of  his  admirers.  The  stanzas  he  addressed 
to  that   vcnt'rable  e  graphic  description 

in,"f!  iii"Childe 

i;  iiicdia  val 
:    vv'ttli  rhe 
■      ath 
T  Mecca 
to  which  the  ^  ft  '  *nie 

to  the  Bvrons  by  •'•'    '-•  ot 

the  last  centur  }>oet's  pre- 

decessor the  v\;;mj  iiy.'uxi,  wuo  killed  his 
neighbor  of  Anncsl^y  and  so  desolated  the  Abbey 
that  the  only  spot  sheltered  from  the  storms  was 
a  corner  of  the  scullery  where  he  breathed  out 
his  wretched  life.  The  poet  occupied  the  place 
at  intervals  for  twenty  years,  and  then  sold  it  ;o 
Colonel  Wildman,  who  had  been  his  form-  fellow 
at  Harrow,  and  to  whom  we  are  mainly  in.lebtcd 
for  the  restoration  of  the  edifice  and  the  p<v:5erva- 

80 

/sbhA   aAaT8v/aVT 


The  Abbey — Chapel  Ruin 

tion  of  every  memento  of  the  poet  and  his  race. 
At  the  death  of  Wildman  the  Abbey  became  the 
property  of  Colonel  W.  F.  Webb,  a  sharer  in 
Livingstone's  explorations,  who  gathers  here  a 
brilliant  circle  of  authors,  artists,  travellers,  an<l 
wits  whose  gayety  dispels  the  hoary  and  ghostly 
associations  of  the  place. 

From  the  boundary  of  the  estate  a  broad 
avenue,  lined  with  noble  trees,  leads  to  an  inner 
park  of  eight  hundred  acres,  among  whose  sylvan 
beauties  our  way  lies,  through  verdant  glades  and 
under  leafy  boughs  whose  shadows  the  sunshine 
prints  upon  the  path,  until  we  see,  from  the 
verge  of  the  wood,  the  noble  pile  rising  amid  an 
environment  of  lawn  and  lake,  grove  and  garden. 
It  is  a  vast  stone  structure,  composed  of  motley 
parts  joined  "  by  no  quite  lawful  marriage  of  the 
arts"  into  an  harmonious  and  impressive  whole. 
The  western  facade  is  the  one  usually  pictured, 
because  it  contains  the  Byron  apartments  and  best 
displays  the  characteristic  features  of  the  edifice, 
having  a  castellated  tower  at  one  extremity, 
while  to  the  other  is  joined  the  ruined  chapel 
front  which,  as  an  example  of  its  style,  is 
rivalled  in  architectural  value  only  by  St.  Mary's 
at  York.  This  Newstead  fragment,  retaining 
its  perfect  proportions,  its  noble  windows,  its 
gray  statue  of  the  Virgin  and  "  God-born  Child" 
in  the  high  niche  of  the  gable, — the  whole 
F  8i 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

draped  and  garlanded  with  ivy  which  conceals 
the  scars  of  Cromwell's  cannon-balls, — is  a  vision 
of  unique  beauty.  From  the  Gothic  door-way 
of  the  mansion  we  are  admitted  to  a  gallery 
with  a  low-vaulted  roof  of  stone  upheld  by 
massive  columns.  This  was  the  crypt  of  the 
abbot's  dormitory  ;  it  adjoins  the  cloisters,  and, 
like  them,  was  used  by  the  Wicked  Byron  as  a 
stable  for  cattle.  It  is  now  adorned  with  the 
spoils  of  African  deserts,  trophies  of  the  mighty 
huntsman  who  now  inhabits  the  Abbey.  One 
of  these,  the  skin  of  a  noble  lion,  is  said  to 
have  belonged  to  a  beast  which  had  mutilated 
Livingstone  and  was  standing  above  his  body 
when  a  ball  from  Webb's  rifle  laid  him  low  and 
saved  the  great  explorer.  From  the  crypt,  stone 
stairs  lead  to  the  corridors  above  the  cloisters : 
in  Byron's  time  entrance  was  between  a  bear 
and  a  wolf  chained  on  these  stairs  and  menacing 
the  guest  from  either  side.  Out  of  the  corridor 
adjoining  the  chapel  ruin  a  spiral  stairway  ascends 
to  a  plain  and  sombre  suite  of  rooms,  once  the 
abbot's  lodgings,  but  cherished  now  because 
they  were  the  private  apartments  of  Byron. 
His  chamber  is  neither  large  nor  elegant,  its  walls 
are  plainly  papered,  and  its  single  oriel  window 
is  shaded  by  a  faded  curtain.  The  room  remains 
as  Byron  last  occupied  it :  his  carpet  is  upon  the 
floor ;   the  carved  bedstead,  with  its  gilt  posts 

82 


Byron's  Apartments 

and  lordly  coronets,  is  the  one  brought  by  him 
from  college ;  its  curtains  and  coverings  are 
those  he  used ;  above  the  mantel  is  the  mir- 
ror which  often  reflected  his  handsome  features. 
We  sit  in  his  embroidered  arm-chair  by  the 
window,  overlooking  lawn  and  lake  and  the 
wood  he  planted,  and  write  out  upon  his  plain 
table  the  memoranda  from  which  this  article  is 
prepared.  The  tourist  is  told  that  the  chamber 
has  never  been  used  since  Byron  left  it ;  but 
Irving  occupied  it  for  some  time,  as  his  letters  to 
his  brother  declare,  and  a  few  years  ago  our 
Joaquin  Miller  lay  here  in  Byron's  bed,  and  saw, 
in  the  moonbeams  sharply  reflected  from  the 
mirror  into  his  face,  an  explanation  of  the 
ghostly  apparitions  which  Byron  beheld  in  this 
glass.  In  the  adjoining  room  are  a  portrait  of 
the  poet's  "  corporeal  pastor,"  Jackson,  in  arena 
costume,  and  a  painting  of  Byron's  valet,  Joe 
Murray,  a  bright-looking  fellow  of  pleasing  face 
and  faultless  attire.  This  room  was  sometime 
occupied  by  Byron's  pretty  page,  whom  the 
housekeeper  believed  to  be  a  girl  in  masquerade  : 
this  page  was  introduced  elsewhere  as  the  poet's 
younger  brother  Gordon,  and  an  attempt  has 
been  made  to  identify  her  with  the  mysterious 
"  Thyrza"  of  his  poems,  and  with  "  Astarte" 
also.  The  third  room  of  the  suite,  Byron's 
dressing-room  and  study,  was  one  of  the  haunts 

83 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

of  the  goblin  friar  who  was  heard  stalking  amid 
the  dim  cloisters  or  in  the  apartments  above. 
Byron's  room  here  is  the  Gothic  chamber  of 
the  Norman  abbey  where  "  Don  Juan"  slept 
and  dreamed  of  Aurora  Raby,  and  the  corridor 
is  the  "gallery  of  sombre  hue"  where  he  pur- 
sued the  sable  phantom  and  captured  a  very 
material  duchess.  Directly  beneath  is  a  pan- 
elled apartment  of  moderate  dimensions  which 
was  Byron's  dining-room  and  the  scene  of  many 
a  revel  when  the  monk's  skull,  brimming  with 
wine,  was  sent  round  by  the  poet's  guests.  His 
sideboard  is  still  here,  his  heavy  table  remains 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  the  famous  skull, 
mounted  as  a  drinking-cup  and  inscribed  with 
the  familiar  anacreontic,  is  carefully  preserved. 
The  library  is  a  stately  and  spacious  apartment : 
here,  among  many  mementos  of  the  poet,  Ada 
Byron  first  heard  a  poem  of  her  father's  ;  here 
Byron's  Italian  friend  la  Guiccioli  made  notes 
for  her  "  Recollections,"  and  here  Livingstone 
penned  portions  of  the  books  which  record  his 
explorations.  In  the  grand  hall  we  see  the 
elevated  chimney-piece  beneath  which  Byron 
and  his  guests  heaped  so  great  a  fire,  on  the  first 
night  of  his  occupancy  of  the  Abbey,  that  its 
destruction  was  threatened.  This  superb  apart- 
ment, the  old  dormitory  of  the  monks,  was 
used  by  the  poet  as  a  shooting-gallery,  and  was 

84 


Relics 

one  of  the  haunts  of  his  "  Black  Friar."  The 
drawing-room  of  the  mansion  is  palatial  in 
dimensions  and  furnishing.  Its  panels  and  gro- 
tesque carvings  have  been  restored,  and  this  an- 
cient room,  once  the  refectory  of  the  monks  and 
later  the  hay-loft  of  the  Wicked  Byron,  is  now 
a  marvel  of  elegance.  Here  is  the  familiar  por- 
trait of  Byron  at  twenty-three,  an  earlier  water- 
color  picturing  him  in  college  gown,  and  a  later 
bust  in  marble.  Here  by  her  desire  the  body 
of  Ada  Byron  lay  in  state,  and  from  here  it  was 
borne  to  rest  beside  her  father  at  near-by  Huck- 
nall,  more  than  realizing  the  closing  stanzas  of 
the  third  canto  of  "  Childe  Harold." 

In  these  stately  rooms  and  in  the  adjoining 
corridors  are  numerous  priceless  relics  of  the 
immortal  bard ;  among  them,  the  cap,  belt,  and 
cimeter  he  wore  in  Greece ;  his  foils,  spurs, 
stirrups,  and  boxing-gloves  ;  a  painting  of  his 
famous  dog  Boatswain  ;  the  bronze  candlesticks 
from  his  writing-table  and  the  table  upon  which 
were  written  "  Bards  and  Reviewers,"  poems 
of  "  Hours  of  Idleness,"  "  Hebrew  Melodies," 
and  portions  of  his  masterpiece,  "  Childe  Har- 
old." Preserved  here,  with  Byron's  will,  un- 
published letters,  and  scraps  of  verse,  are  papers 
which  indicate  that  the  poet's  chef-d' ceuvre  was 
originally  designed  for  private  circulation  and 
was  entitled  "  Childe  Byron."     An  interesting 

85 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

relic    is    a    section    of    the    noted    "  twin-tree" 
bearing  the  names  "  Byron — Augusta"  carved  by 
the  poet  at  his   last  visit  to  the  Abbey.     Our 
own  Barnum  once  visited  the  place  and  offered 
Wildman  five  hundred   pounds  for  this  double 
tree  (then  standing  in  the  grove),  intending  to  re- 
move it  for  exhibition ;   the  colonel  indignantly 
replied  that  five  thousand  would  not  purchase  it, 
and  that  "  the  man  capable  of  such  a  project  de- 
served to  be  gibbeted."     Here,  too,  are  the  por- 
trait   of   the    first    lord    of   Newstead,    "John 
Byron  -  the  -  Little  -  with-  the  -  Great  -  Beard ;"  the 
huge  iron  knocker  in   use  on  the  door  of  the 
Abbey    seven    centuries    ago ;    a    collection    of 
medieval   armor  and  weapons ;    some  personal 
belongings  of  Livingstone,  and  many  specimens 
of  fauna  and  flora  gathered  by  him  and  Webb 
in  the  dark  continent.     One  vaulted  apartment 
of  exquisite  proportions,  erst  the  sanctuary  of 
the  abbot,  and  later  Byron's  dog-kennel,  is  now 
the  chapel  of  the   household.      Newstead   has 
been  the  abode  of  royalty,  and  holds  rooms  in 
which,  from  the  time  of  Edward  IIL,  kings  have 
often  lodged.     We  see  the  chamber  occupied  by 
Ada  Byron  during  her  visit;  another,  adorned 
with  quaint  carvings  and  once  haunted  by  Byron- 
of-the-Great-Beard,  was  used  by  Irving.     The 
noble  chambers  contain  richly  carved  furniture, 
costly  tapestries,  and  beds  of  such  altitude  that 

86 


Court  and  Gardens 

steps  are  provided  for  scaling  them.  The  hang- 
ings of  one  bed  belonged  to  Prince  Rupert,  and 
its  counterpane  was  embroidered  by  Mary  Queen 
of  Scots. 

In  the  centre  of  the  edifice  is  the  quadrangular 
court,  surrounded  by  a  series  of  low-vaulted 
arcades,  once  the  stables  of  the  Wicked  Byron 
and  long  ago  the  "  cloisters  dim  and  damp"  of 
the  monks  whose  dust  moulders  now  beneath 
the  pavement.  One  crypt-like  cell  which  holds 
the  boilers  for  heating  the  mansion  was  Byron's 
swimming-bath.  In  the  middle  of  the  court 
the  ancient  stone  fountain,  with  its  grotesque 
sculptures  of  saints  and  monsters,  graven  by  the 
patient  toil  of  the  monks,  still  sends  out  sprays 
of  coolness. 

We  spend  delightful  hours  loitering  in  the 
ancient  gardens  of  the  friars  and  about  their 
ruined  chapel.  Through  its  mighty  window, 
**  yawning  all  desolate,"  pours  a  flood  of  western 
light  upon  the  turf  that  covers  the  holy  ground 
where  congregations  knelt  in  worship ;  while, 
amid  the  dust  of  the  priests  and  near  the 
site  of  the  altar  where  they  "  raised  their  pious 
voices  but  to  pray,"  Byron's  dog  lies  in  a  tomb 
far  handsomer  than  that  which  holds  his  noble 
master.  It  was  in  excavating  Boatswain's  grave 
that  Byron  found  the  skull  afterward  used  as  a 
drinking-cup.     The  dog's  monument  consists  of 

87 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

a  wide  pedestal,  surmounted  by  a  panelled  altar- 
stone  which  upholds  a  funeral  urn  and  bears 
Byron's  familiar  eulogistic  inscription  and  the 
misanthropic  stanzas  ending  with  the  lines, — 

•'To  mark  a  friend's  remains  these  stones  arise; 
I  never  knew  but  one,  and  here  he  lies." 

Other  panels  were  designed  to  bear  the  epitaph 
of  Byron,  who  directed  in  his  will  (1811)  that 
he  should  be  buried  in  this  spot  with  his  valet 
and  dog  ;  it  is  said  to  have  been  discovered  that 
the  poet  had  made  careful  preparation  for  his 
entombment  here,  the  stone  trestles  and  slab  to 
support  his  coffin  being  in  place  upon  the  pave- 
ment, but  the  sale  of  Newstead  led  to  his  in- 
terment elsewhere,  and  faithful  Murray — who 
declined  to  lie  here  "  alone  with  the  dog" — 
sleeps  near  his  master. 

The  gardens  of  the  Abbey  lie  about  its 
ancient  walls :  here  are  the  fish-pools  of  the 
monks ;  the  noble  terrace  ;  the  "  Young  Oak" 
of  Byron's  poem,  planted  by  his  hands  and  now 
grown  into  a  large  and  graceful  tree ;  other  trees 
rooted  by  Livingstone  and  Stanley  while  guests 
here.  At  one  side  is  a  grove  of  beeches  and 
yews,  in  whose  gloomy  recesses  the  Wicked  Byron 
erected  leaden  statues  of  Pan  and  Pandora,  of 
which  the  rustics  were  so  afraid  that  they  would 
not  go  near  them  after  nightfall,  and  which  are 

88 


Grounds — Recollections 

still  respectfully  spoken  of  in  the  servants'  hall 
as  **  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Devil."  Before  the  mansion 
lies  the  lucid  lake  described  in  "  Don  Juan :" 
the  forest  that  shades  its  shore  and  sweeps  over 
the  farther  hill-side  was  planted  by  Byron  to 
repair  the  spoliation  of  his  uncle,  and  is  called 
the  "  Poet's  Wood."  Upon  some  of  the  farms 
of  the  domain  live  descendants  of  Nancy  Smith, 
whom  Irving's  readers  will  remember,  her  son 
having  married  despite  his  mother's  protest  and 
reared  a  family.  One  aged  servitor  claims  to 
remember  Irving's  visit,  and  opines  "  the  old 
colonel  [Wildman]  thought  him  a  very  fine 
man — for  an  American."  He  recounts  some 
peccadilloes  of  Joe  Murray,  traditional  among 
the  servants,  which  show  that  worthy  to  have 
been  less  precise  in  morals  than  in  dress.  The 
ancient  Byron  estates  were  among  the  haunts  of 
one  whose  exploits  inspired  a  book  of  ballads, 
and  we  here  see  Robin  Hood's  cave  and  other 
reminders  of  the  bold  outlaw  and  his  "  merrie 
men  in  Lyncolne  greene." 

Such,  briefly,  is  the  condition  of  Byron's  an- 
cestral home  as  it  appears  nearly  eighty  years 
after  he  saw  it  for  the  last  time.  Besides  the 
charms  which  won  his  affection  and  made  him 
relinquish  the  Abbey  with  such  poignant  regret, 
it  holds  for  us  an  added  spell  in  that  it  has  been 
the  habitation  of  a  transcendent  genius.     Where 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

Wildman's  fortune  failed  his  wishes  the  present 
owner  has  supplemented  his  work,  until  the  vast 
pile  now  gleams  with  more  than  its  ancient 
splendor  ;  and,  as  we  take  a  last  view  through  a 
glade  whose  beauty  fitly  frames  the  picture  of 
the  restored  mansion,  we  trust  that  somehow 
and  somewhere  Byron  knows  that  his  hope  for 
his  beloved  Newstead  is  accomplished : 

"  Haply  thy  sun  emerging  yet  may  shine, 
Thee  to  irradiate  with  meridian  ray  j 
Hours  splendid  as  the  past  may  still  be  thine, 
And  bless  thy  future  as  thy  former  day." 


90 


WARWICKSHIRE:  THE  LOAM- 
SHIRE  OF  GEORGE  ELIOT 


Miss  Mulock  —  Butler  —  Somerwk  -  Dyer  —  Rugby  —  Homes  of 
George  Eliot  —  Scenes  of  Tales  —  Che-verel  —  Shepperton  — 
Milly's  Gra-ve-PaJdiJord—MiHy-Co-ventry,  etc.— Char- 
acters-Incidents. 

QOME  one  has  said  that  to  write  about  War- 
^  wickskire  is  to  write  about  Shakespeare. 
True,  the  transcending  fame  of  the  bard  of  Avon 
gives  the  places  associated  with  his  life  and  genius 
pre-eminence,  but  the  literary  rambler  will  find 
in  this  heart  of  England  other  shrines  worthy 
of  homage.  Inevitably  our  pilgrimage  includes 
the  Stratford  scenes, — from  the  birthplace  and 
the  Hathaway  cottage  to  the  fane  where  all  the 
world  bows  at  Shakespeare's  tomb, — but,  reso- 
lutely repressing  the  inclination  to  describe  again 
these  oft-described  resorts,  we  fare  to  less  fa- 
miliar shrines :  to  the  birthplace  of  the  author  of 
"  Hudibras"  and  the  haunts  and  tomb  of  Somer- 
vile,  poet  of"  The  Chase"  and  "  Rural  Sports  ;" 
to  the  Rhynhill  of  Braddon's  tale  and  the  Kenil- 
worth  of  Scott's  matchless  romance  ;  to  Bilton, 
where  Addison  sometime  dwelt,  and  the  Cal- 
thorpe  home  of  Dyer,  bard  of  "  Grongar  Hill" 
and  "  The  Fleece,"  where  we  find  his  garden 
and  a  tree  he  planted  which  shades  now  his  battle- 

91 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

merited  old  church  ;  to  Rugby,  where  we  see 
the  dormitory  of  "  Tom  Brown"  Hughes,  the 
class-rooms  he  shared  with  Clough,  Matthew 
Arnold,  and  Dean  Stanley,  the  grave  of  the 
beloved  Dr.  Arnold  in  the  "  Rugby  Chapel"  of 
his  son's  poem. 

At  Avonmouth  we  find  the  Norton  Bury  of 
"John  Halifax,"  and  the  old  inn  where  Dinah 
Mulock  lived  while  writing  this  her  popular 
tale.  The  inn  garden  holds  the  yew  hedge  of 
the  novel,  "  fifteen  feet  high  and  as  many  thick," 
and  the  sward  over  which  crept  the  lame  Phin- 
eas :  sitting  there,  we  see  the  view  the  boy 
admired, — the  old  Abbey  tower,  the  mill  of  Abel 
Fletcher,  the  river  where  the  famished  rioters 
fought  for  the  grains  the  grim  old  man  had  flung 
into  the  water,  the  green  level  of  the  Ham  dot- 
ted with  cattle,  the  white  sails  of  the  encircling 
Severn,  the  farther  sweep  of  country  extending 
to  the  distant  hills, — and  hear  the  sweet-toned 
Abbey  chimes  and  the  lazy  whir  of  the  mill 
which  sounded  so  pleasantly  in  Phineas's  ears. 

"John  Halifax"  was  published  simultaneously 
with  another  tale  of  Warwickshire  life,  "  Amos 
Barton."  We  are  newly  come  from  the  London 
homes  of  George  Eliot  and  her  grave  on  the 
Highgate  hill-side,  and  now,  as  we  traverse  sweet 
Avonvale,  we  gladly  remember  that  Shakespeare's 
shire  is  hers  as  well.     A  jaunt  of  a  score  of 

9» 


Other  Shrines — Loamshire 

miles  from  Stratford  brings  us  to  the  scenes  amid 
which  she  was  born  and  grew  to  physical  and 
mental  maturity.  Our  course  by  "  Avon's 
stream,"  bowered  by  willows  or  bordered  by 
meads,  lies  past  the  noble  park  where  Shake- 
speare did  not  steal  deer  and  the  palace  of  his 
Justice  Shallow  where  he  was  not  arraigned  for 
poaching.  (We  find  it  as  impossible  to  keep 
Shakespeare  out  of  our  MS.  as  did  Mr.  Dick  of 
"  Copperfield"  to  keep  Charles  I.  out  of  the 
memorial.)  Beyond  Charlecote  is  storied  War- 
wick Castle,  with  the  old  mansion  of  Compton 
Wyniates,  dwelling  of  the  royalist  knight  of 
Scott's  "  Woodstock,"  not  far  away.  Beyond 
these  again  we  come  to  the  Coventry  region  and 
the  frontier  of  the  "  Loamshire"  whose  character- 
istics are  imaged  and  whose  traditions,  phases  of 
life,  and  scenery  are  wrought  with  tender  touch 
into  poem  and  tale  by  George  Eliot  and  so  made 
familiar  to  all  the  world.  Warwickshire  scenery 
is  not  sublime ;  Dr.  Arnold  characterized  it  as 
"an  endless  monotony  of  enclosed  fields  and 
hedgerow  trees."  While  its  landscapes  lack 
striking  features,  theirs  is  the  quiet,  unobtrusive 
beauty  which  Hawthorne  loved  and  which  for 
us  is  full  of  restful  charm.  Across  sunny  vales 
and  gentle  eminences  we  look  away  to  the  far-off 
Malvern  Hills,  whose  shadowy  outlines  bound 
many  a  "  Loamshire"  landscape.     We  see  vis- 

93 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

tas  of  low-lying  meads  with  circling  "  lines  of 
willows  marking  the  watercourses ;"  of  slum- 
berous  expanses  of  green  or  golden  fields ;  of 
villages  grouped  about  gray  church-towers  ;  of 
groves  of  venerable  woods, — survivors  of  Shake- 
speare's "  Forest  of  Arden"  which  erst  clothed 
the  countryside.  We  find  it,  indeed,  "  worth 
the  journey  hither  only  to  see  the  hedgerows," — 
green,  fragrant  walls  of  hawthorn  which  border 
lane  and  highway,  bound  garden  and  field. 
With  their  gleaming  boughs  rayed  by  bright 
blossoms  and  festooned  with  interlacing  vines, 
these  barriers  are  often  marvels  of  beauty  and 
strength.  Between  miles  of  such  hedgerows, 
and  beneath  lines  of  overshading  elms,  a  high- 
way running  northward  from  the  town  of  Godiva 
and  "  Peeping  Tom"  brings  us  to  the  great 
Arbury  property  of  the  Newdigates,  where  we 
find  the  South  Farm  homestead  in  which  Robert 
Evans — newly  appointed  agent  of  the  estate — 
temporarily  placed  his  family,  and  where,  in  the 
room  at  the  left  of  the  central  chimney-stack,  at 
five  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  St.  Cecilia's  day, 
1 8 19,  his  youngest  child,  Mary  Ann,  was  born. 
It  is  a  broad-eaved,  many-gabled,  two-storied 
structure  of  stuccoed  stone,  with  trim  hedges 
and  flower-bordered  garden-beds  about  it,  a 
wider  environment  of  lawn  and  woodland,  and 
colonnades  of  the  elms  which  figure  in  her  poems 

94 


Birthplace  and  Home  of  George  Eliot 

and  were  already  venerable  when  she  saw  the 
light  beneath  their  shade.      On  the  same  estate, 
near  the  highway  between  Bedworth  and  Nun- 
eaton,  is   GriiF  House,  "  the  warm  nest  where 
her  affections  were  fledged,"  to  which  she  was 
removed  at  the  age  of  four  months,  and  where 
her  first  score  years  of  life  were  passed.     It  is  a 
pleasant  and  picturesque  double-storied  mansion 
of  brick,   quaint  and   comfortable.     Massy  ivy 
mantles  its  walls,  climbs  to  its  gables,  overruns 
its  roofs,  peeps  in  at  its  tiny-paned  casements ; 
doves  coo  upon  its   ridges.      About  it  flowers 
shine  from  their  setting  in  the  emerald  of  the 
lawn,  and  great  trees  open  their  leaves  to  the  sun- 
shine and  winds  of  summer.     Spacious  rooms  lie 
upon  either  side  of  the  entrance :  of  the  one  at 
the  left,  the  novelist  gives  us  a  glimpse  in  "  The 
Mill  on  the  Floss."    It  is  a  home-like  apartment, 
with  low  walls  and  a  pleasant  fireplace  ;  it  was  the 
dining-room  and   sitting-room  also  in  the  days 
when  "  the  little  wench"  Mary  Ann  was  the  pet 
of   the   household.      Here    she   acted   charades 
with  her  brother  Isaac  and  astonished  the  family 
by  repeating  stories  from  "  Miller's  Jest  Book," 
a  treasured  volume  of  hers  in   that  early  time. 
We    learn    from     Maggie    Tulliver — in    whose 
childhood  is  pictured  the  author's  inner  life  as  a 
child— that  Defoe's   "History   of    the    Devil" 
was  another  of  Mary  Ann's  juvenile  favorites, 

95 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

and  her  relatives  preserve  the  worn   copy  she 
used  to  read  here  before  this  fireplace  with  her 
father,  containing  the  pictures  of  the  drowning 
witch  and  the  devil  which  little  Maggie  explained 
to   Mr.   Riley  in    "The  Mill   on   the   Floss." 
Here,  years  afterward,   Mary  Ann  heard,  from 
her  "  Methodist  Aunt  Samuel,"  the  thrilling  story 
of  the   girl   executed    for   child-murder,   which 
was   the    germ   of  the    great    romance   "  Adam 
Bede."     The  aunt,  who  had  been  a  preacher  in 
earlier  life,  remained  at  GrifF  for  some  time,  and 
George  Eliot  has  told  us  that   the  character  of 
Dinah  Morris  grew  out  of  her  recollections  of 
this  relative.     It  may  be  noted  that  in  real  life 
Dinah  married  Seth  Bede,  Adam  being  drawn  in 
part — like    Caleb    Garth — from     the    novelist's 
father.     In  this  same  room,  but  a  few  years  ago, 
the  *'  Brother"  of  the  poem,  who  played  here 
at  charades  with  little  Mary  Ann,  suddenly  ex- 
pired in  his  chair  but  a  few  minutes  after  his 
return  from  "  Shepperton  Church."     The  win- 
dows of  Mary  Ann's  chamber  command  a  reach 
of  the  coach-road  of  "  Felix  Holt"  and  a  farther 
vista     of    woodlands     and     fields ;     in     another 
chamber  is  the  mahogany   bed   beneath  which 
she  was   once  found  hidden   to  avoid  going  to 
school.      In  the  roof   is   the   attic  which  was 
Maggie  Tulliver's  retreat,  where  she  kept  her 
wooden  doll  with  the  nails  in  its  head,  and  here 

96 


Scenes  of  her  Tales 

is  the  chimney-stack  against  which  that  vicarious 

sufferer  was  ground  and  beaten.      The  death  of 

her  mother,   Mrs.   Hackit  of  "  Barton,"  made 

Mary   Ann   mistress   of   GriiF   at   sixteen.     At 

GrifPs  gates  stood  the  cottage  of  Dame  Moore's 

school,  where  the  novelist  began  her  education, 

and  where  years  after  she  used  to  collect  the 

children  of  the  vicinage  for  religious  instruction 

each  Sabbath.      A   son   of   Mrs.    Moore  lately 

lived  not  far  away,  and  had  more  to  say  in  praise 

of  "  Mary  Hann"  than  of  her  surviving  kinsfolk, 

who  seem  ashamed  of  their  relationship  to  the 

novelist.     In  a  shaded  part  of  the  garden  lately 

stood  a  bower  with  a  stone  table,  which  George 

Eliot  doubtless  had  in  mind  when  she  described 

the  finding  of  Casaubon's  corpse  in  the  arbor  at 

Lowick.     The  exhausted  quarries  in  the  shale 

close  by,  a  resort  of  Mary  Ann's  girlhood,  are 

the  "  Red  Deeps"  where  Maggie  met  her  lover ; 

the  "  brown  canal"  of  the  poem  winds  through 

the  near  hollow  ;  and  beyond  it,  on  **  an  apology 

for  an  elevation  of  ground,"  is   the  "  College" 

workhouse     to     which     Amos     Barton     walked 

through    the    sleet   to    read    prayers.       Not    far 

distant  is  Arbury  Hall,  seat  of  the  Newdigates, 

for  whom  the  tenant  of  Griff  was  and  is  agent. 

This  is   the   Cheverel   Manor   of  "  Gilfil,"  an 

imposing  castellated  structure  of  gray  stone,  with 

flanking   towers   and   great   mullioned  windows 
G  37 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

of  multishaped  panes,  famous  for  its  elaborately 
decorated  ceilings.  That  George  Eliot  had 
often  been  within  this  mansion  is  shown  by  her 
familiarity  with  the  arrangement  and  ornamenta- 
tion of  the  rooms,  accurately  described  as  scenes 
of  many  incidents  of  the  tale.  In  the  grounds, 
too,  the  imagery  of  the  *'  Love  Story"  may  be 
perfectly  realized  :  here  are  the  lawn  where  little 
Caterina  sat  with  Lady  Cheverel,  and  the  shim- 
mering pool,  with  its  swans  and  water-lilies, 
which  was  searched  for  her  corpse  the  morning 
of  her  flight ;  at  a  little  distance  we  find  "  Moss- 
lands,"  and  the  cottage  of  the  gardener  to  which 
the  dead  body  of  Wybrow  was  carried ;  and, 
farther  away,  the  spot  under  giant  limes  where 
the  poor  girl,  coming  to  meet  her  recreant  lover 
"with  a  dagger  in  her  dress  and  murder  in  her 
heart,"  found  him  lying  dead  in  the  path,  his 
hand  clutching  the  dark  leaves,  his  eyes  unheed- 
ing the  "  sunlight  that  darted  upon  them  be- 
tween the  boughs."  A  touching  incident  in  the 
life  of  a  former  owner  of  Arbury  was  made  the 
plot  of  Otway's  tragedy  "  The  Orphan." 

A  mile  northward  from  GrifF  is  the  quaint 
church  of  Chilvers  Coton,  where  Mary  Ann 
was  christened  at  the  age  of  a  week,  where  a 
little  later  her  "  devotional  patience"  was  fostered 
by  smuggled  bread-and-butter,  and  where  as 
child   and  woman   she  worshipped   for  twenty 

98 


Shepperton  Church — Milly's  Grave 

years.  It  is  a  massive  stone  edifice  with  Gothic 
windows,  one  of  them  being  a  memorial  of  the 
wife  of  Isaac  Evans,  and  with  a  square  tower 
rising  above  its  low  roofs  ;  at  one  corner,  "  a 
flight  of  stone  steps,  with  their  wooden  rail  run- 
ning up  the  outer  wall,"  still  leads  to  the  chil- 
dren's gallery  as  in  the  days  of  Gilfil  and  Amos 
Barton,  for  this  is  the  Shepperton  Church  of  the 
tales.  Within  we  see  the  memorials  of  Rev. 
Gilpin  Ebdell  (thought  to  be  Gilfil)  and  of 
the  original  of  Mrs.  Farquhar  ;  the  place  where 
Gilfil  read  his  sermons  from  manuscript  "  rather 
yellow  and  worn  at  the  edges,"  and  where  Barton 
later  "  preached  without  book."  About  the 
renovated  fane  is  the  church-yard,  with  its  grassy 
mounds  and  mouldering  tombstones,  one  of  which, 
protected  by  a  paling  and  shaded  by  leafy  boughs, 
is  crowned  by  a  funeral  urn  and  marks  the  spot 
where  Milly  was  laid, — "  the  sweet  mother  with 
her  baby  in  her  arms," — the  grave  to  which  Bar- 
ton came  back  an  old  man  with  Patty  supporting 
his  infirm  steps.  Its  inscription  is  to  "  Emma, 
beloved  wife  of  Revd.  John  Gwyther,  B.A.," 
curate  here  in  George  Eliot's  girlhood  :  during 
his  incumbency  the  community  felt  aggrieved 
for  his  wife  on  account  of  the  prolonged  stay 
at  the  parsonage  of  a  strange  woman  who,  years 
after,  was  described  as  Countess  Czerlaski  by 
one  who  as  a  child  had  seen  her  here.     Not  far 

99 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

from  Milly's  monument  the  parents  of  George 
Eliot  lie  in  one  grave,  with  Isaac,  the  "  Brother" 
of  her  poem,  sleeping  near.  By  the  church- 
yard wall  stands  the  pleasant  ivy-grown  parson- 
age to  which  Gilfil  brought  his  dark-eyed  bride, 
and  where,  after  brief  months  of  happiness,  he 
lived  the  long  years  of  solitude  and  sorrow. 
We  see  the  cosy  parlor — smelling  no  longer  of 
his  or  Barton's  pipe — where  the  lonely  old  man 
sat  with  his  dog,  and  above,  its  pretty  window 
overlooking  the  garden,  the  chamber  where  he 
tenderly  cherished  the  dainty  belongings  of  his 
dead  wife  with  the  unused  baby-clothes  her 
fingers  had  fashioned,  and  where,  in  another 
tale,  is  laid  one  of  the  most  affecting  and  high- 
wrought  scenes  in  all  fiction,  the  death  of  Milly 
Barton. 

A  half-mile  distant  lies  the  village  of  Attle- 
boro,  where,  at  the  age  of  five,  Mary  Ann  was 
sent  to  Miss  Lathorn's  school ;  and  a  mile  south- 
ward from  GrifF,  in  a  region  blackened  by  pits, 
is  the  town  of  Bedworth, — "  dingy  with  coal- 
dust  and  noisy  with  looms," — whose  men  *'  walk 
with  knees  bent  outward  from  squatting  in  the 
mine,"  and  whose  haggard,  overworked  women 
and  dirty  children  and  cottages  are  pathetically 
pictured  in  "  Felix  Holt."  Obviously  the 
changes  of  the  half-century  which  has  elapsed 
since  George  Eliot  knew  its  wretchedness  have 

lOO 


Milby — Liggins 

wrought  little  improvement  in  this  place,  over 
which  her  nephew  is  rector :  we  see  pale, 
hungry  faces  in  the  streets,  squalor  in  the  poor 
dwellings,  proofs  of  pinching  poverty  every- 
where. A  little  beyond  Chilvers  Coton  we  find 
the  market-town  of  Nuneaton,  the  Milby  of 
the  romances.  The  shaking  of  hand-looms  is 
less  noticeable  now  than  in  George  Eliot's 
school-days  here,  factories  having  supplanted 
the  cottage  industry ;  but  the  dingy,  smoky 
town,  with  its  environment  of  flat  fields,  is  still 
**  nothing  but  dreary  prose."  Here  we  find, 
near  the  church,  "  The  Elms"  of  her  girlhood, 
a  tall  brick  edifice  embowered  with  ivy ;  on  its 
garden  side,  the  long  low-ceiled  school-room, 
with  its  heavy  beams,  broad  windows,  and  plain 
furniture,  where  she  was  four  years  a  pupil ;  the 
dormitory  whence  she  beheld  the  riot  which  she 
describes  in  the  election-riot  at  Treby  in  "  Felix 
Holt."  Another  vision  of  her  girlhood  here 
was  a  "  tall,  black-coated  young  clergyman-in- 
embryo,"  Liggins  by  name,  who  afterward 
claimed  the  authorship  of  her  books  and  so  far 
imposed  upon  the  public  that  a  subscription  was 
made  for  him.  Mrs.  Gaskell  was  one  of  the  last 
to  relinquish  the  belief  that  Liggins  was  George 
Eliot.  He  spent  most  of  his  time  drinking,  but 
did  his  own  house-work,  and  was  found  by  a 
deputation  of  literary  admirers  washing  his  slop- 

lOI 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

basin  at  the  pump.  All  about  us  at  Nuneaton 
lie  familiar  objects  :  the  cosy  Bull  Inn  is  the 
"Red  Lion"  where,  in  the  opening  of  "Janet's 
Repentance,"  Dempser  is  discovered  in  theologic 
discussion,  and  from  whose  window  he  harangued 
the  anti-Tyranite  mob ;  the  fine  old  church, 
with  its  beautiful  oaken  carvings,  is  the  sanctuary 
where  Mr.  Crewe,  in  brown  Brutus  wig,  deliv- 
ered his  "  inaudible  sermons,"  and  where  Mr. 
Elty  preached  later  ;  adjoining  is  the  parsonage, 
erst  redolent  of  Crewe's  tobacco,  where  Janet 
helped  his  deaf  wife  to  spread  the  luncheon  for 
the  bishop,  and  where,  in  the  time  of  Elty,  Bar- 
ton came  to  the  sessions  of  the  "  Clerical  Meet- 
ing and  Book  Society ;"  on  this  Church  street, 
"  Orchard  Street"  of  Eliot,  a  quaint  stuccoed 
house  with  casement  windows  was  Dempser's 
home,  whence  he  thrust  his  wife  at  midnight 
into  the  darkness  and  cold ;  the  arched  passage 
near  by  is  that  through  which  she  fled  to  the 
haven  of  Mrs.  Pettifer's  house.  A  little  way 
westward  amid  the  pits  is  Stockingford,  "  Paddi- 
ford"  of  the  tale,  and  the  chapel  where  Mr. 
Tyran  preached.  A  cousin  of  George  Eliot's 
was  recently  a  coal-master  in  this  vicinity. 

Eight  miles  from  GrifF  is  Coventry,  where  our 
companion  is  one  who  had  met  Rossetti  there 
forty  years  before.  George  Eliot  was  sometime 
a  pupil  of  Miss  Franklin's  school,  lately  standing 

I02 


Coventry — Birds  Grove 

in  Little  Park  Street,  and  saw  there  that  lady's 
father,  whom  she  described  as  Rev.  Rufus  Lyon 
of  Treby  Chapel.  His  diminutive  legs,  large 
head,  and  other  peculiarities  are  yet  remembered 
by  some  who  were  in  the  school ;  his  home  is 
accurately  pictured  in  **  Felix  Holt."  In  the 
Foleshill  suburb  we  find  the  stone  villa  of  Birds 
Grove,  which  was  the  home  of  the  novelist  after 
Isaac  Evans  had  succeeded  his  father  at  Griff. 
The  house  has  been  enlarged,  but  the  apartments 
she  knew  are  little  changed :  a  plain  little  room 
above  the  entrance,  whose  window  looked  beyond 
the  tree-tops  to  the  superb  spire  of  St.  Michael's 
Church, — where  Kemble  and  Siddons  were  mar- 
ried,— was  her  study,  in  which,  despite  her  tasks 
as  her  father's  housewife  and  nurse,  she  accom- 
plished much  literary  work.  At  the  right  of 
the  window  stood  her  desk,  with  an  ivory  crucifix 
above  it,  and  here  her  translation  of  Strauss's 
"  Leben  Jesu,"  undertaken  through  the  persua- 
sion of  her  friends  at  Rosehill,  was  written. 
Some  portions  of  this  work  she  found  distressing ; 
she  declared  to  Mrs.  Bray  that  nothing  but  the 
sight  of  the  Christ  image  enabled  her  to  endure 
dissecting  the  beautiful  story  of  the  crucifixion. 
Adjoining  the  study  is  her  modest  bedchamber, 
and  beyond  it  that  of  her  father,  where  during 
many  months  of  sickness  she  was  his  sole  attend- 
ant, often  sitting  the  long  night  through  at  his 

103 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

bedside  with  her  hand  in  his.  The  grounds  arc 
little  changed,  save  that  the  occupant  has  removed 
much  of  the  foliage  which  formerly  shrouded 
the  mansion,  but  some  of  George  Eliot's  favorite 
trees  remain  on  the  lawn.  Half  a  mile  away  is 
the  pretty  villa  of  Rosehill,  whilom  the  home 
of  Mrs.  Bray  and  her  sister  Sara  Hennel,  who 
were  the  most  valued  friends  of  the  novelist's 
young-womanhood  and  exerted  the  strongest  in- 
fluence upon  her  life.  Her  letters  to  these 
friends  constitute  a  great  part  of  Cross's  "  Life." 
At  Rosehill  she  met  Chapman,  Mackay,  Robert 
Owen,  Combe,  Thackeray,  Herbert  Spencer, 
and  others  of  like  genius,  and  here  she  spent  a 
day  with  Emerson  and  wrote  next  day,  "  I  have 
seen  Emerson — the  first  man  I  have  ever  seen." 
Sara  Hennel  testifies  that  Emerson  was  impressed 
with  Miss  Evans  and  declared,  "  That  young 
lady  has  a  serious  soul."  When  he  asked  her, 
*'  What  one  book  do  you  like  best  ?"  and  she 
replied,  "  Rousseau's  Confessions,"  he  quickly 
responded,  "  So  do  I :  there  is  a  point  of  sym- 
pathy between  us."  After  her  father's  death 
she  was  for  sixteen  months  a  resident  at  Rose- 
hill, and  there  wrote,  among  other  things,  the  re- 
view of  Mackay's  "  Progress  of  the  Intellect." 
Financial  reverses  caused  the  Brays  long  ago  to 
relinquish  this  beautiful  home,  but  some  of  this 
household  were  lately  living  in  another  suburb 

104 


Coventry  Friends 

of  Coventry  and  receiving  an  annuity  bequeathed 
by  George  Eliot.  Here,  too,  lately  resided 
another  old-time  friend,  the  Mary  Sibtree  of  the 
novelist's  Coventry  days,  to  whom  were  addressed 
some  of  the  letters  used  by  Cross. 

In  1 85 1  George  Eliot  left  this  circle  of 
friends  to  become  an  inmate  of  Chapman's 
house  in  London,  returning  to  them  for  occasional 
visits  for  the  next  few  years ;  then  came  her 
union  with  Lewes,  after  which  the  loved  scenes 
of  her  youth  knew  her  no  more  in  the  flesh ; 
but  the  allusions  to  them  which  run  like  threads 
of  gold  through  all  her  work  show  how  oft  she 
revisited  them  in  "  shadowy  spirit  form." 


105 


YORKSHIRE    SHRINES:     DO- 

THEBOYS    HALL   AND 

ROKEBY 


Village  of  Bowes— Dickens-Squeers' s  School— The  Master  and 
his  Family-Haunt  of  Scott. 

T7ROM  the  familiar  shrines  of  Cumberland, 
■■-  the  lakeside  haunts  of  Wordsworth, 
Southey,  and  Coleridge,  a  journey  across  a  wild 
moorland  region — from  whose  higher  crags  we 
see  through  the  fog-rifts  the  German  Ocean  and 
the  Irish  Sea — brings  us  into  Gretavale,  on  the 
northern  border  of  great  Yorkshire.  In  the 
upper  portion  of  the  valley,  among  the  outlying 
spurs  of  the  Pennines,  the  storied  Greta  flows 
at  the  foot  of  a  bleak,  treeless  hill  on  whose 
summit  we  find  the  village  of  Bowes.  This 
was  the  Lavatrs  of  the  Romans,  who  for  three 
centuries  had  here  a  station,  and  remains  of  great 
Roman  works  may  still  be  traced  in  the 
vicinage ;  but  to  the  literary  pilgrim  Bowes  is 
chiefly  of  interest  as  representing  "  the  delightful 
village  of  Dotheboys"  described  in  Squeers's 
advertisement  of  his  school  in  "  Nicholas 
Nickleby."  The  aspect  of  the  village  is  dreary 
and  desolate  in  the  extreme.  A  single  street, 
steep  and  straight,  bordered  by  straggling  houses 
of  dull  gray  stone,  extends  along  the  hill,  which 

io6 


Bowes — Dotheboys  Hall 

is  crowned  by  the  church  and  an  ancient  castle : 
the  dun  moors  decline  steeply  on  every  side, 
leaving  the  treeless  village  dismal  and  bare  and 
often  exposed  to  a  w^ind  **  fit  to  knock  a  man  ofF 
his  legs,"  as  Squeers  said  to  Nicholas.  In  the 
midst  of  the  village  stands  a  cosy  inn,  where 
Dickens  for  some  time  lodged  and  was  visited  by 
John  Browdie,  and  where  we  are  shown  the 
wainscoted  apartment  in  which  some  portion 
of  **  Nickleby"  was  noted.  At  the  time  of 
Dickens's  sojourn  here,  Bowes  was  the  centre  of 
the  pernicious  cheap-school  system  which  he 
came  to  expose,  and  half  the  houses  of  the 
village  were  "  academies"  similar  to  that  of 
Squeers :  among  them  one  is  pointed  out  as 
being  the  place  where  Cobden  was  a  pupil. 
But  most  interesting  of  all  is  the  large  house  at 
the  top  of  the  hill  which  Dickens  depicted  as 
Dotheboys  Hall, — by  which  name  it  was  long 
known  among  the  older  dwellers  of  the  place, — 
a  long,  heavy,  two-storied,  dingy  structure  of 
stone,  with  many  windows  along  its  front,  and 
presenting,  despite  its  bowering  vines  and  trees, 
an  aspect  so  chill  and  cheerless  that  one  can 
scarcely  conceive  of  a  more  depressing  domicile 
for  the  neglected  children  who  once  thronged  it. 
Through  an  archway  at  one  end  could  be  seen 
the  pump  which  was  frozen  on  the  first  morning 
of  Nicholas's  stay,   and   beyond   it  the  garden 

107 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

which,  by  a  surprising  mistake,  Dickens  repre- 
sents a  pupil  to  be  weeding  on  a  freezing  winter's 
day. 

A  few  residents  of  the  neighborhood  remem- 
ber the  "  measther"  of  Dotheboys  Hall ;  his 
name,  like  Squeers's,  was  of  one  syllable  and 
began  with  S  ;  in  person  he  was  not  like  Squeers, 
nor  was  he  an  ignorant  man.  A  quondam  pupil 
of  the  school  informed  the  writer  that  Johnny 
S.  was  fairly  drawn  as  Wackford  Squeers,  but 
Miss  S.  was  a  young  lady  of  considerable  refine- 
ment and  was  in  no  sense  like  the  spiteful  Fanny 
of  the  tale.  Squeers  had  the  largest  of  the 
schools,  and,  besides  rooms  in  the  adjoining 
house,  he  hired  barns  in  which  to  lodge  his 
many  pupils.  A  farm  attached  to  his  house 
was  cultivated  by  the  scholars,  whose  food  was 
chiefly  oatmeal :  scanty  diet  and  liberal  flogging 
was  the  portion  of  all  who  displeased  the  master. 
According  to  local  belief,  this  school  was  not  so 
bad  as  some  of  its  neighbors,  and  no  one  of  the 
schools  realized  all  the  wretchedness  which 
Dickens  portrays ;  yet,  despite  the  author's 
avowal  that  Squeers  was  a  representative  of  a 
class,  and  not  an  individual,  the  popular  identifi- 
cation of  this  school  as  the  typical  Dotheboys, 
and  the  odium  consequent  thereupon,  wrought 
its  speedy  ruin  and  the  death  of  the  master  and 
mistress.     The  latter  result  is  to  be  deplored,  for 

io8 


Squeers — Rokeby 

the  reason  that  in  the  case  of  this  pair  the 
abhorrence  seems  to  have  been  not  wholly 
deserved.  Two  charges,  at  least,  which  affected 
them  most  painfully — that  of  goading  the  boys  to 
suicide  and  that  of  feeding  them  upon  the  flesh  of 
diseased  cattle — were,  by  the  testimony  of  their 
neighbors,  unfounded  so  far  as  the  proprietors 
of  this  school  were  concerned.  Relatives  of 
Squeers  lately  occupied  Dotheboys  Hall,  which 
had  become  a  farm-house,  and  other  relatives 
and  descendants  are  respectable  denizens  of  the 
vicinity.  Dickens's  exposure  of  the  schools  led 
to  their  extinction  and  to  the  consignment  of 
Bowes  to  its  present  somnolent  condition.  In 
the  village  church-yard  lie  the  lovers  whose 
simultaneous  deaths  were  commemorated  by 
Mallet  in  "  Edwin  and  Emma."  At  Barnard 
Castle,  a  few  miles  away,  the  prototype  of  New- 
man Noggs  is  still  traditionally  known,  and  known 
as  "  a  gentleman." 

The  abounding  beauties  of  the  Greta  have 
been  painted  by  Turner  and  sung  by  Scott,  both 
frequenters  of  this  vale.  From  Bowes,  a  ram- 
ble along  the  lovely  stream,  between  steep  tree- 
shaded  banks  where  it  chafes  and  "  greets"  over 
the  great  rocks,  and  through  mossy  dells  where  it 
softly  murmurs  its  content,  brings  us  to  the 
demesne  of  Rokeby,  where  Scott  laid  the  scene 
of  his  famous  poem.     On  every  hand  amid  this 

109 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

region  of  enchantment,  in  glade  and  grove,  in 
riven  clifFand  headlong  torrent,  in  sunny  slope  and 
dingle's  shade,  we  recognize  the  poetic  imagery 
of  Scott.  Every  turn  reveals  some  new  vista, 
rendered  doubly  delightful  by  the  romantic  asso- 
ciations with  which  the  great  poet  has  invested 
it.  To  the  poet  himself  Greta's  banks  were 
potent  allurements,  and  they  were  his  habitual 
haunts  during  his  sojourns  in  the  valley.  A  de- 
scendant of  the  friend  whom  Scott  visited  here 
and  to  whom  the  poem  is  inscribed,  points  out 
to  us  a  natural  grotto,  in  the  precipitous  bank 
above  the  stream,  where  the  poet  often  sat,  and 
where  some  part  of  "  Rokeby"  was  pondered 
and  composed  amid  the  scenery  it  portrays. 


no 


STERNE'S  SWEET   RETIRE- 
MENT 


Sutton— Crazy  Castle-Torick's  Church— Parsonage-ff here  Tris- 
tram Shandy  and  the  Sentimental  Journey  "were  ivritten— 
Reminiscences  —  Neiuhurgk  Hall  —  Where  Sterne  died- 
Sepulchre. 

A  T  historic  old  York  we  are  fairly  in  the 
^^  midst  of  great  Yorkshire :  standing  upon 
the  tower  of  its  colossal  cathedral,  we  overlook 
half  that  ancient  county.  At  our  feet  lie  the 
quaint  olden  streets  depicted  in  Collins's  "  No 
Name,"  where  erstwhile  dwelt  Porteus,  Defoe, 
Wallis,  Lindley  Murray,  Mrs.  Stannard,  Poole  of 
"Synopsis  Criticorum,"  Burton  the  author  im- 
mortalized by  Sterne  as  "  Dr.  Slop."  Below  us 
we  see  the  feudal  castle  where  Eugene  Aram  was 
hanged,  the  ancient  city  wall  with  its  gate-ways 
and  battlements,  the  ruins  of  mediaeval  shrine 
and  of  Roman  citadel  and  necropolis  ;  abroad 
we  behold  the  vale  which  Bunsen  pronounces 
the  "  most  beautiful  in  the  world  (the  vale  of 
Normandy  excepted),"  with  its  streams,  its 
mosaics  of  green  and  golden  fields  and  sombre 
woods,  its  distant  border  of  savage  moors  and 
uplands.  The  Ouse,  shining  like  a  ribbon  of 
silver,  flows  at  our  feet ;  we  may  trace  its  course 
from    the    hills   of    Craven  on    the    one    hand, 

III 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

while  southward  we  behold  it  "  slow  winding 
through  the  level  plain"  on  its  way  to  the  sea ; 
into  its  valley  we  see  the  Wharfe  flowing  from 
the  lovely  dale  where  Collyer  grew  to  manhood, 
and,  farther  away,  the  Aire  emerging  from  the 
dreary  region  where  lived  the  sad  sisters  Bronte 
and  wove  the  sombre  threads  of  their  lives  into 
romance.  The  Foss  flows  toward  us  from  the 
northeast,  and  our  view  along  its  valley  embraces 
the  region  where  dwelt  Sydney  Smith,  while 
rising  in  the  north  are  the  Hambleton  Hills, 
which  shelter  the  vale  where  Sterne  wrote  the 
books  that  made  him  famous.  Indeed,  this 
region  of  York  is  pervaded  with  memories  of 
that  prince  of  sentimentalists :  in  the  great 
minster  beneath  us  we  find  the  tomb  and  monu- 
ment of  his  grandfather,  once  archbishop  of 
this  diocese ;  in  the  carved  pulpit  of  the  min- 
ster Sterne  preached  as  prebendary,  and  here  he 
delivered  his  last  sermon ;  his  uncle  was  a  dig- 
nitary of  the  old  minster ;  his  "  indefatigably 
prolific"  mother  was  native  to  this  region ;  his 
wife  was  born  here,  and  was  first  seen  and  loved 
by  Sterne  within  sound  of  the  glorious  minster 
bells  ;  most  of  his  adult  life  was  passed  within 
sight  of  the  minster  towers. 

At  Sutton,  Sterne's  first  living,  the  pilgrim 
finds  little  to  reward  his  devotion.  Sterne's  life 
here  was  obscure  and,  save  in  preparation,  un- 

112 


Crazy  Castle 

productive.  Skelton  Castle  was  then  the  seat  of 
his  college  friend  Stevenson,  author  of  "  Crazy 
Tales,"  etc.,  who  was  the  Eugenius  of"  Shandy," 
and  to  whom  the  "  Sentimental  Journey"  was  in- 
scribed. Here  Sterne  found  a  library  rich  in  rare 
treatises  upon  unusual  subjects,  in  which,  during 
his  stay  at  Sutton,  he  spent  much  time  and  ac- 
quired a  fund  of  odd  and  fanciful  learning  which 
constituted  in  part  his  equipment  for  his  work. 
We  find  this  castle  nearer  the  stern  coast  which 
Yorkshire  opposes  to  the  endless  thunders  of  the 
North  Sea.  Once  a  Roman  stronghold,  then  a 
feudal  fortress  and  castle  of  the  Bruces,  later  a 
country-seat,  it  has  since  Sterne's  time  been  re- 
built and  modernized  out  of  all  semblance  to  the 
**  Crazy  Castle"  of  his  letters.  It  is  believed 
that  only  a  few  of  the  rooms  remain  substan- 
tially as  he  knew  them.  A  tradition  is  preserved 
to  the  effect  that  during  his  visits  here  he  bribed 
the  servants  to  tie  the  vane  with  the  point 
toward  the  west,  because  Eugenius  would  never 
leave  his  bed  while  an  east  wind  prevailed.  A 
near-by  hill  is  called  Sterne's  Seat,  but  time  has 
left  here  little  to  remind  us  of  the  sentimental 
"  Yorick"  who  long  haunted  the  place.  It  is 
only  at  Coxwold,  fourteen  miles  from  York  and 
in  the  deeper  depths  of  the  shire,  that  we  find 
many  remaining  objects  that  were  associated 
with  his  work  and  with  that  portion  of  his  life 

H  JI3 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

which  chiefly  concerns  the  literary  world.  A 
result  of  the  publication  of  the  first  part  of 
**  Tristram  Shandy"  was  the  presentation  of  this 
living  to  its  author,  and  his  removal  to  this 
sequestered  retreat,  which  was  to  be  his  home 
during  his  too  few  remaining  years.  The  ham- 
let has  now  a  railway  station,  but  the  usual 
approach  is  by  a  rustic  highvyay  which  conducts 
to  and  constitutes  the  village  street.  Within  the 
hamlet  we  find  a  low-eaved  road-side  inn,  and  by 
it  the  shaded  green  where  the  rural  festivals  were 
held,  and  where,  to  celebrate  the  coronation  of 
George  III.,  Sterne  had  an  ox  roasted  whole  and 
served  with  great  quantities  of  ale  to  his  parish- 
ioners. Just  beyond,  Sterne's  church  stands  in- 
tact upon  a  gentle  eminence,  overlooking  a 
lovely  pastoral  landscape  bounded  by  verdant 
hills.  The  church  dates  from  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury and  is  a  pleasing  structure  of  perpendicular 
Gothic  style,  with  a  shapely  octagonal  tower 
embellished  with  fretted  pinnacles  and  a  para- 
pet of  graceful  design.  One  window  has  been 
filled  with  stained  glass,  but  Sterne's  pulpit 
remains,  and  the  interior  of  the  edifice  is  scarcely 
changed  since  he  preached  here  his  quaint  ser- 
mons. The  walls  are  plain ;  the  low  ceiling  is 
divided  by  beams  whose  intersections  are  marked 
by  grotesque  bosses  ;  the  whole  effect  is  depress- 
ing, and  to  the  sensitive  "  Yorick" — haunted  as 

114 


Sterne's  Church — Shandy  Hall 

he  was  by  habitual  dread  that  his  ministrations 
might  provoke  a  fatal  pulmonary  hemorrhage — 
it  must  have  been  dismal  indeed.  Among  the 
efEgied  tombs  of  the  Fauconbergs  which  line 
the  chancel  we  find  that  of  Sterne's  friend  who 
gave  him  this  living. 

Beyond  the  church  and  near  the  highway 
stands  the  quaint  and  picturesque  old  edifice 
where  dwelt  Sterne  during  the  eight  famous 
years  of  his  life.  In  his  letters  he  calls  it 
Castle  Shandy,  and  in  all  the  countryside  it  is 
now  known  as  Shandy  Hall,  shandy  meaning  in 
the  local  dialect  crack-brained.  It  is  a  long, 
rambling,  low-eaved  fabric,  with  many  heavy 
gables  and  chimneys,  and  steep  roofs  of  tiles. 
Curious  little  casements  are  under  the  eaves ; 
larger  windows  look  out  from  the  gables  and  are 
aligned  nearer  the  ground,  many  of  them  shaded 
by  the  dark  ivy  which  clings  to  the  old  walls 
and  overruns  the  roofs.  Abutting  the  kitchen  is 
an  astounding  pyramidal  structure  of  masonry — ■ 
an  Ailsa  Craig  in  shape  and  solidity,  yet  more 
resembling  Stromboli  with  its  emissions  of 
smoke, — which,  beginning  at  the  ground  as  a 
buttress,  terminates  as  a  kitchen-chimney  and 
imparts  to  this  portion  of  the  house  an  archi- 
tectural character  altogether  unique.  Shrubbery 
grows  about  the  old  domicile,  venerable  trees 
which  may  have  cast  their  shade  upon  "  Yorick" 

"5 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

himself  are  by  the  door,  and  the  aspect  of  the 
place  is  decidedly  attractive.  To  Sir  George 
Wombwell,  who  inherits  the  Fauconberg  estate 
through  a  daughter  of  Sterne's  patron,  we  are 
indebted  for  the  preservation  of  the  exterior  of 
the  house  in  the  condition  it  was  when  Sterne 
inhabited  it ;  but  the  interior  has  been  parti- 
tioned into  two  dwellings  and  thus  considerably 
altered.  However,  we  may  see  the  same 
sombre  wainscots  and  low  ceiling  that  Sterne 
knew,  and  we  find  the  one  room  which  inter- 
ests us  most — Sterne's  parlor  and  study — little 
changed.  It  is  a  pleasant  apartment,  with  win- 
dows looking  into  the  garden,  where  stood  the 
summer-house  in  which  he  sometimes  wrote, 
and  beyond  which  was  the  sward  where  *'  my 
uncle  Toby"  habitually  demonstrated  the  siege 
of  Namur  and  Dcndermond.  On  the  low  walls 
of  this  room  Sterne  disposed  his  seven  hundred 
books, — "  bought  at  a  purchase  dog-cheap," — and 
here  he  wrote,  besides  his  sermons,  seven  volumes 
of  "  Tristram  Shandy"  and  the  "  Sentimental 
Journey."  There  is  a  local  tradition  that  other 
MSS.  written  here  were  found  by  the  succeed- 
ing tenant  and  used  to  line  the  hangings  of  the 
room.  Sterne's  letters  afford  glimpses  of  him 
in  this  room  :  in  one  we  see  him  "  before  the 
fire,  with  his  cat  purring  beside  him  ;"  in 
another  he  is  "  sitting  here  and  cudgelling  his 

ii6 


Sterne's  Parsonage — Study 

brains"  for  ideas,  though  he  usually  wrote 
facilely  and  rapidly ;  in  another  he  shows  us  a 
prettier  picture,  in  which  ••  My  Lydia"  (his 
daughter)  "  helps  to  copy  for  me,  and  my  wife 
knits  and  listens  as  I  read  her  chapters ;"  and 
later,  after  his  estrangement  from  Mrs.  Sterne, 
we  see  him  "  sitting  here  alone,  as  sad  and  soli- 
tary as  a  tomcat,  which  by  the  way  is  all  the 
company  I  keep."  In  the  repose  of  this  charm- 
ing place,  and  amid  the  peaceful  influences  about 
him  here  in  his  pretty  home,  Sterne  appears  at 
his  best.  And  here  for  a  time  he  was  happy ; 
we  find  his  letters  attesting,  "  I  am  in  high  spirits, 
care  never  enters  this  cottage ;"  "  I  am  happy  as 
a  prince  at  Coxwold ;"  "  I  wish  you  could  see 
in  what  a  princely  manner  I  live.  I  sit  down  to 
dinner — fish  and  wild  fowl,  or  a  couple  of  fowls, 
with  cream  and  all  the  simple  plenty  a  rich 
valley  can  produce,  with  a  clean  cloth  on  my 
table  and  a  bottle  of  wine  on  my  right  hand  to 
drink  your  health."  But  the  melancholy  days 
came  all  too  soon  ;  the  "  bursting  of  vessels  in 
his  lungs"  became  more  and  more  frequent,  his 
struggle  with  dread  consumption  was  inaugurated, 
and  now  his  letters  from  the  pretty  parsonage 
abound  with  references  to  his  "  vile  cough, 
weak  nerves,  dismal  headaches,"  etc.  Now  his 
**  sweet  retirement"  has  become  "  a  cuckoldy 
retreat ;"  he  complains  of  its  situation,   of  its 

117 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

"death-doing,  pestiferous  wind."  Returning  to 
it  from  a  sentimental  journey  or  from  a  brilliant 
season  of  lionizing  in  London,  he  finds  its  quiet 
and  seclusion  insufferably  irksome.  Mortally  ill, 
growing  old,  hopelessly  estranged  from  his  wife, 
deprived  of  the  companionship  of  his  idolized 
child,  the  poor  master  of  Castle  Shandy  is  "  sad 
and  desolate,"  his  "  pleasures  are  few,"  he  sits 
**  alone  in  silence  and  gloom."  Such  were  some 
of  the  diverse  phases  of  his  life  which  these 
dumb  walls  have  witnessed ;  in  the  dismalest, 
they  have  seen  him  at  his  desk  here,  resolutely 
ignoring  his  ills  and  tracing  the  passages  of  wit 
and  fancy  which  were  to  delight  the  world. 
The  incomplete  "  Sentimental  Journey"  was 
written  in  his  last  months  of  life. 

A  mile  from  Sterne's  cottage,  and  approached 
by  a  way  oft  trodden  by  him  and  his  "  little 
Lyd,"  is  Newburgh  Hall,  the  ancient  seat  of 
Sterne's  friend.  Parts  of  the  walls  of  a  priory 
founded  here  in  1145  are  incorporated  into  the 
oldest  portion  of  the  hall,  and  this  has  been 
added  to  by  successive  generations  until  a  great, 
incongruous  pile  has  resulted,  which,  however, 
is  not  devoid  of  picturesque  beauty.  Within 
this  mansion  Sterne  was  a  familiar  guest :  urged 
by  the  friendly  persistence  of  Fauconberg,  he 
frequently  came  here  to  chat  or  dine  with  his 
friend  and   the  guests  of  the   hall,  his   brilliant 

118 


Place  of  Sterne's  Death  and  Burial 

converse  making  him  the  life  of  the  company. 
Among  the  family  portraits  here  are  that  of  his 
benefactor  and  one  of  Mary  Cromwell,  wife  of 
the  second  Fauconberg,  who  preserved  here 
many  relics  of  the  great  Protector,  including  his 
bones,  which  were  somehow  rescued  from 
Tyburn  and  concealed  in  a  mass  of  masonry  in 
an  upper  apartment  of  the  hall. 

Sterne  was  not  only  popular  with  his  lordly 
neighbor  of  Newburgh,  but  also,  improbable  as 
it  would  seem,  with  the  illiterate  yeomen  who 
were  his  parishioners  :  although  they  understood 
not  the  sermons  and  found  the  sermonizer  in 
most  regards  a  hopeless  enigma,  yet,  according 
to  the  traditions  of  the  place,  these  simple 
folk  discerned  something  in  the  complexly 
blended  character  of  the  creator  of  **  my  uncle 
Toby"  which  elicited  their  esteem  and  prompted 
many  acts  of  love  and  service.  In  a  letter  to  an 
American  friend,  Arthur  Lee,  Sterne  writes, 
"  Not  a  parishioner  catches  a  hare,  a  rabbit,  or  a 
trout,  but  he  brings  it  an  offering  to  me." 

As  set  forth  by  the  inscription  at  Sterne's  cot- 
tage, he  died  in  London.  One  autumn  day  we 
find  ourselves  pondering  the  sad  event  of  his  last 
sojourn  in  the  great  city,  as  we  stand  upon  the 
spot  where  his  "  truceless  fight  with  disease"  was 
ended,  barely  a  fortnight  after  the  "  Sentimental 
Journey"  was   issued.     His  wish  to  die  "  un- 

119 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

troubled  by  the  concern  of  his  friends  and  the 
last  service  of  wiping  his  brows  and  smoothing 
his  pillow"  was  literally  realized.  During  the 
publication  of  the  "Journey"  he  lodged  in 
rooms  above  a  silk-bag  shop  in  Old  Bond  Street; 
here  he  rapidly  sank,  and  in  the  evening  of 
March  1 8,  1768,  attended  only  by  a  hireling 
who  robbed  his  body,  and  in  the  presence  of  a 
staring  footman,  the  dying  man  suddenly  cried, 
"  Now  it  is  come  !"  and,  raising  his  hand  as  if  to 
repel  a  blow,  expired.  A  few  furlongs  distant, 
opposite  Hyde  Park,  we  find  an  old  cemetery 
hidden  from  the  streets  by  houses  and  high  walls 
which  shut  out  the  din  of  the  great  city.  Here, 
in  seclusion  almost  as  complete  as  that  of  the 
graveyard  of  his  own  Coxwold,  Sterne  was 
consigned  to  earth.  The  spot  is  overlooked  by 
the  windows  of  Thackeray's  sometime  home. 
An  old  tree  stands  close  by,  and  in  its  boughs 
the  birds  twitter  above  us  as  we  essay  to  read  the 
inscription  which  marks  Sterne's  poor  sepulchre. 
But,  mean  and  neglected  as  it  is,  we  may  never 
know  that  his  ashes  found  rest  even  here ;  a 
report  which  has  too  many  elements  of  prob- 
ability and  which  never  was  disproved,  avers 
that  the  grave  was  desecrated  and  that  a  horror- 
stricken  friend  recognized  Sterne's  mutilated 
corse  upon  the  dissecting-table  of  a  medical 
school.     "  Alas,  poor  Yorick  !" 


izo 


HA  WORTH  AND  THE 
BRONTES 

The  Village -Black  Bull  Inn-  Church  — Vicarage-  Memory- 
haunted  Roomi- Bronte  Tomb-Moors-Bronti'  Cascade^ 
fVuthering  Heighti-Humble  Friends-Relic  and  Recollec- 
tion. 

/^THER  Bronte  shrines  have  engaged  us, — . 
^^  Guiseley,  where  Patrick  Bronte  was  mar- 
ried and  Neilson  worked  as  a  mill-girl ;  the 
lowly  Thornton  home,  where  Charlotte  was 
born ;  the  cottage  where  she  visited  Harriet 
Martineau  ;  the  school  where  she  found  Caro- 
line Helstone  and  Rose  and  Jessy  Yorke ;  the 
Fieldhead,  Lowood,  and  Thornfield  of  her  tales  ; 
the  Villette  where  she  knew  her  hero ;  but  it 
is  the  bleak  Haworth  hill-top  where  the  Brontes 
wrote  the  wonderful  books  and  lived  the  pathetic 
lives  that  most  attracts  and  longest  holds  our 
steps.  Our  way  is  along  Airedale,  now  a  high- 
way of  toil  and  trade,  desolated  by  the  need  of 
hungry  poverty  and  greed  of  hungrier  wealth  : 
meads  are  replaced  by  blocks  of  grimy  huts, 
groves  are  supplanted  by  factory  chimneys  that 
assoil  earth  and  heaven,  the  once  "  shining" 
stream  is  filthy  with  the  refuse  of  many  mills. 
At  Keighley  our  walk  begins,  and,  although  we 
have  no  peas  in  our  "  pilgrim  shoon,"  the  way 
is  heavy  with  memories  of  the  sad  sisters  Bronte 

121 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

who  so  often  trod  the  dreary  miles  which  bring 
us  to  Haworth.  The  village  street,  steep  as  a 
roof,  has  a  pavement  of  rude  stones,  upon  which 
the  wooden  shoes  of  the  villagers  clank  with  an 
unfamiliar  sound.  The  dingy  houses  of  gray 
stone,  barren  and  ugly  in  architecture,  are  hud- 
dled along  the  incline  and  encroach  upon  the 
narrow  street.  The  place  and  its  situation  are  a 
proverb  of  ugliness  in  all  the  countryside ;  one 
dweller  in  Airedale  told  us  that  late  in  the  even- 
ing of  the  last  day  of  creation  it  was  found  that 
a  little  rubbish  was  left,  and  out  of  that  Haworth 
was  made.  But,  grim  and  rough  as  it  is,  the 
genius  of  a  little  woman  has  made  the  place 
illustrious  and  draws  to  it  visitors  from  every 
quarter  of  the  world.  We  are  come  in  the 
"  glory  season"  of  the  moors,  and  as  we  climb 
through  the  village  we  behold  above  and  beyond 
it  vast  undulating  sweeps  of  amethyst-tinted 
hills  rising  circle  beyond  circle, — all  now  one 
great  expanse  of  purple  bloom  stirred  by  zephyrs 
which  waft  to  us  the  perfume  of  the  heather. 

At  the  hill-top  we  come  to  the  Black  Bull  Inn, 
where  one  Bronte  drowned  his  genius  in  drink, 
and  from  our  apartment  here  we  look  upon  all  the 
shrines  we  seek.  The  inn  stands  at  the  church- 
yard gates,  and  is  one  of  the  landmarks  of  the 
place.  Long  ago  preacher  Grimshaw  flogged 
the    loungers   from    its    tap-room    into   chapel ; 

122 


Black  Bull  Inn 

here  Wesley  and  Whitefield  lodged  when  holding 
meetings  on  the  hill-top  ;  here  Bronte's  prede- 
cessor took  refuge  from  his  riotous  parishioners, 
finally  escaping  through  the  low  casement  at  the 
back, — out  of  which  poor  Branwell  Bronte  used 
to  vault  when  his  sisters  asked  for  him  at  the 
door.  This  inn  is  a  quaint  structure,  low-eaved 
and  cosy ;  its  furniture  is  dark  with  age.  We 
sleep  in  a  bed  once  occupied  by  Henry  J.  Ray- 
mond, and  so  lofty  that  steps  are  provided  to 
ascend  its  heights.  Our  meals  are  served  in  the 
old-fashioned  parlor  to  which  Branwell  came. 
In  a  nook  between  the  fireplace  and  the  before- 
mentioned  casement  stood  the  tall  arm-chair, 
with  square  seat  and  quaintly  carved  back,  which 
was  reserved  for  him.  The  landlady  denied 
that  he  was  summoned  to  entertain  travellers 
here  :  **  he  never  needed  to  be  sent  for,  he  came 
fast  enough  of  himsel'."  His  wit  and  convivi- 
ality were  usually  the  life  of  the  circle,  but  at 
times  he  was  mute  and  abstracted  and  for  hours 
together  "  would  just  sit  and  sit  in  his  corner 
there."  She  described  him  as  a  **  little,  red- 
haired,  light-complexioned  chap,  cleverer  than 
all  his  sisters  put  together.  What  they  put  in 
their  books  they  got  from  him,"  quoth  she,  re- 
minding us  of  the  statement  in  Grundy's  Remi- 
niscences that  Branwell  declared  he  invented  the 
plot  and  wrote  the  major  part  of  "  Wuthering 

123 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

Heights."  Certain  it  is  he  possessed  transcend- 
ing genius  and  that  in  this  room  that  genius  was 
slain.  Here  he  received  the  message  of  re- 
nunciation from  his  depraved  mistress  which 
finally  wrecked  his  life ;  the  landlady,  entering 
after  the  messenger  had  gone,  found  him  in  a  fit 
on  the  floor.  Emily  Bronte's  rescue  of  her  dog, 
an  incident  recorded  in  **  Shirley,"  occurred  at 
the  inn  door. 

The  graveyard  is  so  thickly  sown  with  black- 
ened tombstones  that  there  is  scant  space  for 
blade  or  foliage  to  relieve  its  dreariness,  and  the 
villagers,  for  whom  the  yard  is  a  thoroughfare, 
step  from  tomb  to  tomb :  in  the  time  of  the 
Brontes  the  village  women  dried  their  linen  on 
these  graves.  Close  to  the  wall  which  divides 
the  church-yard  from  the  vicarage  is  a  plain  stone 
set  by  Charlotte  Bronte  to  mark  the  grave  of 
Tabby,  the  faithful  servant  who  served  the 
Brontes  from  their  childhood  till  all  but  Charlotte 
were  dead.  The  very  ancient  church-tower 
still  "  rises  dark  from  the  stony  enclosure  of  its 
yard  ;"  the  church  itself  has  been  remodelled  and 
much  of  its  romantic  interest  destroyed.  No 
interments  have  been  made  in  the  vaults  beneath 
the  aisles  since  Mr.  Bronte  was  laid  there.  The 
site  of  the  Bronte  pew  is  by  the  chancel ;  here 
Emily  sat  in  the  farther  corner,  Anne  next,  and 
Charlotte  by  the  door,  within  a  foot  of  the  spot 

124 


CKurch — ^Bronte  Tomb 

where  her  ashes  now  lie.  A  former  sacristan 
reniembered  to  have  seen  Thackeray  and  Miss 
Martineau  sitting  with  Charlotte  in  the  pew. 
And  here,  almost  directly  above  her  sepulchre, 
she  stood  one  summer  morning  and  gave  herself 
in  marriage  to  the  man  who  served  for  her  as 
"  faithfully  and  long  as  did  Jacob  for  Rachel." 
The  Bronte  tablet  in  the  wall  bears  a  uniquely 
pathetic  record,  its  twelve  lines  registering 
eight  deaths,  of  which  Mr.  Bronte's,  at  the  age 
of  eighty-five,  is  the  last.  On  a  side  aisle  is  a 
beautiful  stained  window  inscribed  "  To  the 
Glory  of  God,  in  Memory  of  Charlotte  Bronte, 
by  an  American  citizen."  The  list  shows  that 
most  of  the  visitors  come  from  America,  and  it  was 
left  for  a  dweller  in  that  far  land  to  set  up  here 
almost  the  only  voluntary  memento  of  England's 
great  novelist.  A  worn  page  of  the  register 
displays  the  tremulous  autograph  of  Charlotte 
as  she  signs  her  maiden  name  for  the  last  time, 
and  the  signatures  of  the  witnesses  to  her  mar- 
riage,— Miss  Wooler,  of  "  Roe  Head,"  and 
Ellen  Nussy,  who  is  the  E  of  Charlotte's  letters 
and  the  Caroline  of  "  Shirley." 

The  vicarage  and  its  garden  are  out  of  a  cor- 
ner of  the  church-yard  and  separated  from  it  by 
a  low  wall.  A  lane  lies  along  one  side  of  the 
church-yard  and  leads  from  the  street  to  the 
vicarage  gates.     The  garden,  which  was  Emily's 

125 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

care,  where  she  tended  stunted  shrubs  and 
borders  of  unresponsive  flowers  and  where 
Charlotte  planted  the  currant-bushes,  is  beauti- 
ful with  foliage  and  flowers,  and  its  boundary- 
wall  is  overtopped  by  a  screen  of  trees  which 
shuts  out  the  depressing  prospect  of  the  graves 
from  the  vicarage  windows  and  makes  the  place 
seem  less  "  a  church-yard  home"  than  when  the 
Brontes  inhabited  it.  The  dwelling  is  of  gray 
stone,  two  stories  high,  of  plain  and  sombre  as- 
pect. A  wing  is  added,  the  little  window-panes 
are  replaced  by  larger  squares,  the  stone  floors 
are  removed  or  concealed,  curtains — forbidden 
by  Mr.  Bronte's  dread  of  lire — shade  the  win- 
dows, and  the  once  bare  interior  is  furbished  and 
furnished  in  modern  style ;  but  the  arrangement 
of  the  apartments  is  unchanged.  Most  interest- 
ing of  these  is  the  Bronte  parlor,  at  the  left  of 
the  entrance  ;  here  the  three  curates  of"  Shirley" 
used  to  take  tea  with  Mr.  Bronte  and  were  up- 
braided by  Charlotte  for  their  intolerance ;  here 
the  sisters  discussed  their  plots  and  read  each 
other's  MSS. ;  here  they  transmuted  the  sorrows 
of  their  lives  into  the  stories  which  make  the 
name  of  Bronte  immortal ;  here  Emily,  *'  her 
imagination  occupied  with  Wuthering  Heights," 
watched  in  the  darkness  to  admit  Branwell  com- 
ing late  and  drunken  from  the  Black  Bull ;  here 
Charlotte,  the  survivor  of  all,  paced  the  night- 

126 


Bronte  Parsonage — Apartments 

watches  in  solitary  anguish,  haunted  by  the 
vanished  faces,  the  voices  forever  stilled,  the 
echoing  footsteps  that  came  no  more.  Here, 
too,  she  lay  in  her  coffin.  The  room  behind 
the  parlor  was  fitted  by  Charlotte  for  Nichols's 
study.  On  the  right  was  Bronte's  study,  and 
behind  it  the  kitchen,  where  the  sisters  read  with 
their  books  propped  on  the  table  before  them 
while  they  worked,  and  where  Emily  (prototype 
of  "  Shirley"),  bitten  by  a  dog  at  the  gate  of 
the  lane,  took  one  of  Tabby's  glowing  irons 
from  the  fire  and  cauterized  the  wound,  telling 
no  one  till  danger  was  past.  Above  the  parlor 
is  the  chamber  in  which  Charlotte  and  Emily 
died,  the  scene  of  Nichols's  loving  ministrations 
to  his  suffering  wife.  Above  Bronte's  study  was 
his  chamber ;  the  adjoining  children's  study  was 
later  Branwell's  apartment  and  the  theatre  of  the 
most  terrible  tragedies  of  the  stricken  family ; 
here  that  ill-fated  youth  writhed  in  the  horrors 
of  mania-a-potu ;  here  Emily  rescued  him — 
stricken  with  drunken  stupor — from  his  burning 
couch,  as  "Jane  Eyre"  saved  Rochester  ;  here  he 
breathed  out  his  blighted  life  erect  upon  his 
feet,  his  pockets  filled  with  love-letters  from  the 
perfidious  woman  who  wrought  his  ruin.  Even 
now  the  isolated  site  of  the  parsonage,  its  en- 
vironment of  graves  and  wild  moors,  its  exposure 
to  the   fierce  winds  of  the  long  winters,  make 

127 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

it  unspeakably  dreary ;  in  the  Bronte  time  it 
must  have  been  cheerless  indeed.  Its  influence 
darkened  the  lives  of  the  inmates  and  left  its 
fateful  impression  upon  the  books  here  produced. 
Visitors  are  rarely  admitted  to  the  vicarage ; 
among  those  against  whom  its  doors  have  been 
closed  is  the  gifted  daughter  of  Charlotte's 
literary  idol,  to  whom  "Jane  Eyre"  was  dedi- 
cated, Thackeray. 

By  the  vicarage  lane  were  the  cottage  of 
Tabby's  sister,  the  school  the  Brontes  daily 
visited,  and  the  sexton's  dwelling  where  the 
curates  lodged.  Behind  the  vicarage  a  savage 
expanse  of  gorse  and  heather  rises  to  the  horizon 
and  stretches  many  miles  away  :  a  path  oft  trod- 
den by  the  Brontes  leads  between  low  walls 
from  their  home  to  this  open  moor,  their  habit- 
ual resort  in  childhood  and  womanhood.  The 
higher  plateaus  afford  a  wide  prospect,  but, 
despite  the  August  bloom  and  fragrance  and  the 
delightful  play  of  light  and  shadow  along  the 
sinuous  sweeps,  the  aspect  of  the  bleak,  treeless, 
houseless  waste  of  uplands  is  even  now  dispirit- 
ing ;  when  frosts  have  destroyed  its  verdure 
and  wintry  skies  frown  above,  its  gloom  and 
desolation  must  be  terrible  beyond  description. 
Remembering  that  the  sisters  found  even  these 
usually  dismal  moors  a  welcome  relief  from  their 
tomb  of  a  dwelling,  we  may  appreciate  the  utter 

iz8 


The  Moors — Wuthering  Heights 

dreariness  of  their  situation  and  the  pathos  of 
Charlotte's  declaration,  **  I  always  dislike  to 
leave  Haworth,  it  takes  so  long  to  be  content 
again  after  I  return."  We  trace  the  steps  of 
the  Brontes  across  the  moor  to  the  cascade, 
called  now  the  "  Bronte  Falls,"  where  a  brook- 
let descends  over  great  boulders  into  a  shaded 
glen.  This  was  their  favorite  excursion,  and 
as  we  loiter  here  we  recall  their  many  visits 
to  the  spot :  first  they  came  four  children  to 
play  upon  these  rocks ;  later  came  three  grave 
maidens  with  Caroline  Helstone  or  Rose  Yorke; 
later  came  two  saddened  women  ;  and  then  Char- 
lotte came  alone,  finding  the  moor  a  featureless 
wilderness  full  of  torturing  reminders  of  her 
dead,  and  seeing  their  vanished  forms  "  in  the 
blue  tints,  the  pale  mists,  the  waves  and  shadows 
of  the  horizon."  Later  still,  during  her  few 
months  of  happiness,  she  came  here  many  times 
with  her  husband,  and  her  last  walk  on  earth  was 
made  with  him  to  see  the  cascade  "  in  its  winter 
wildness  and  power." 

Above  the  village  was  the  parsonage  of  Grim- 
shaw  and  the  original  **  Wuthering  Heights." 
It  was  a  sombre  structure ;  a  few  trees  grew 
about  it,  the  moors  rose  behind  ;  the  apartments 
were  like  the  oak-lined,  stone-paved  interior 
pictured  in  the  tale,  while  the  inscription  above 
the  door,  HE  1659,  ^^^  changed  to  Hareton 
»  129 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

Earnshaw  1500  by  Miss  Bronte,  who  described 
here  much  of  her  own  grandfather's  early  life 
and  suffering  and  portrayed  his  wife  in  Catherine 
Linton.  It  is  notable  that  the  name  Earnshaw 
and  other  names  in  the  Bronte  books  may  be 
seen  on  shop-signs  along  the  way  the  sisters 
walked  to  Keighley. 

Among  the  villagers  we  meet  some  who  re- 
member the  Brontes  with  affection  and  pride. 
We  find  them  so  uniformly  courteous  that  we 
are  willing  to  doubt  Mrs.  Gaskell's  ascriptions 
of  surly  rudeness.  They  indignantly  deny  the 
statements  of  Reid,  Gaskell,  and  others  regard- 
ing the  character  of  Mr.  Bronte.  One  whose 
relations  to  that  clergyman  entitle  him  to 
credence  assures  us  that  Bronte  did  not  destroy 
his  wife's  silk  dress,  nor  burn  his  children's 
colored  shoes,  nor  discharge  pistols  as  a  safety- 
valve  for  his  temper  :  "  he  didn't  have  that  sort 
of  a  temper."  It  would  appear  that  many 
charges  of  the  biographers  were  made  upon  the 
authority  of  a  peculating  servant  whom  Bronte 
had  angered  by  dismissal.  Some  parishioners 
testify  that  "  the  Brontes  had  odd  ways  of 
their  own,"  "  went  their  gait  and  didn't  meddle 
o'ermuch  with  us  ;"  "  nobody  had  a  word  against 
them."  Charlotte's  husband,  too,  became  pop- 
ular after  her  death,  perhaps  at  first  because 
of  his  tender  care  of  her  father :  **  to  see  the 

I -JO 


Recollections  of  the  Brontes 

good  old  man  and  Nichols  together  when  the 
rest  were  dead,  and  Mr.  Bronte  so  helpless  and 
blind,  was  just  a  pretty  sight."  We  hear  more 
than  once  of  Bronte's  wonderful  cravat  :  he 
habitually  covered  it  himself,  putting  on  new 
silk  without  removing  the  old,  until  in  the  course 
of  years  it  became  one  of  the  sights  of  the 
place,  having  acquired  such  phenomenal  propor- 
tions that  it  concealed  half  his  head.  Many 
still  remember  hearing  him  preach  from  the 
depths  of  this  cravat,  while  the  sexton  perambu- 
lated the  aisles  with  a  staff  to  stir  up  the  sleepers 
and  threaten  the  lads.  Mr.  Wood,  a  cabinet- 
maker of  the  village,  was  church-warden  in 
Bronte's  incumbency  and  an  intimate  friend  of 
the  family  till  the  death  of  the  last  member :  his 
loving  hands  fashioned  the  coffins  for  them  all. 
He  was  sent  for  to  see  Richmond's  portrait  of 
Charlotte  on  its  arrival,  and  was  laughed  at  by 
that  lady  for  not  recognizing  the  likeness ;  while 
Tabby  insisted  that  a  portrait  of  Wellington, 
which  came  in  the  same  case,  was  a  picture  of 
Mr.  Bronte.  That  clergyman  often  complained 
to  Wood  that  Mrs.  Gaskell  "  tried  to  make  us 
all  appear  as  bad  as  she  could."  We  find  some 
survivors  of  Charlotte's  Sunday-school  class 
among  the  villagers.  From  one,  who  was  also 
singer  in  Bronte's  church  choir,  we  obtain 
pictures  of  the  church  and  rectory  as  they  ap- 

131 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

peared  in  Charlotte's  lifetime  and  a  photographic 
copy  of  Branwell's  painting  of  himself  and  sis- 
ters, in  which  the  likenesses  are  said  to  be  ex- 
cellent. Charlotte  is  remembered  as  being 
"good  looking,"  having  a  wealth  of  lustrous 
hair  and  remarkably  expressive  eyes.  She  was 
usually  neatly  apparelled  in  black,  and  was  so 
small  that  when  Mrs.  F.  entered  her  class,  at  the 
age  of  twelve,  the  pupil  was  larger  than  the 
teacher.  Another  of  Charlotte's  class  remem- 
bers her  as  being  nervously  quick  in  all  her 
movements  and  a  rapid  walker ;  a  third  stood  in 
the  church-yard  and  saw  her  pass  from  the  vicar- 
age to  the  church  on  the  morning  of  her  mar- 
riage wearing  a  very  plain  bridal  dress  and  a 
white  bonnet  trimmed  with  green  leaves.  A 
few  brief  months  later  this  person,  from  the 
same  spot,  beheld  the  mortal  part  of  her  im- 
mortal friend  borne  by  a  grief-stricken  company 
along  the  same  path  to  her  burial.  In  the  hands 
of  another  of  Charlotte's  pupils  we  see  a  vol- 
ume of  the  original  edition  of  the  poems  of 
the  three  sisters,  presented  by  Charlotte,  and  a 
Yorkshire  collection  of  hymns  which  contains 
some  of  Anne's  sweet  verses. 

It  is  evident  that,  of  all  the  family,  the  hapless 
Branwell  was  most  admired  by  the  villagers. 
They  delight  to  extol  his  pleasant  manners,  his 
ready  repartee,  his  wonderful  learning,  his  am- 

132 


Branwell  Bronte — Bronte  Relics 

bidextrcusness,  his  personal  courage.  On  one 
occasion  restraint  was  required  to  prevent  his 
attacking  alone  a  dozen  mill-rioters,  "  any  one  of 
whom  could  have  put  him  in  his  pocket." 
Holding  a  pen  in  each  hand,  he  could  simul- 
taneously write  letters  on  two  dissimilar  subjects 
while  he  discoursed  on  a  third.  Wood  thought 
him  naturally  the  brightest  of  the  family,  and 
believed  that  lack  of  occupation,  in  a  place 
where  there  was  nothing  to  stimulate  mental 
effort,  accounted  for  his  vices  and  failures.  He 
came  often  with  his  sisters  to  Wood's  house,  and 
would  talk  by  the  hour  of  his  projects  to  achieve 
fame  and  fortune.  One  of  his  associates  pre- 
served some  letters  received  from  him  while  he 
was  **  away  tutoring,"  in  which  he  shamelessly 
recorded  his  follies  and  referred  to  himself  as  a 
"Joseph  in  Egypt."  A  local  society  has  col- 
lected in  its  museum  some  Bronte  mementos :  a 
relative  of  Martha,  Tabby's  successor  in  the 
household,  saved  a  few,  —  Charlotte's  silken 
purse,  her  thimble-case  and  some  articles  of 
dress,  elementary  drawings  made  by  the  sisters, 
autograph  letters  of  Charlotte  and  her  copies  of 
the  "  Quarterly"  and  other  periodicals  in  which 
she  had  read  the  reviews  of  "Jane  Eyre." 
Among  the  treasures  Wood  preserved  were 
sketches  by  Emily  and  Branwell ;  a  signatured 
set  of  Bronte  volumes  presented  by  Bronte  the 

133 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

day  before  his  death  ;  Charlotte's  worn  history 
containing  annotations  in  her  microscopic  chi- 
rography  ;  a  copy  of  **  Jane  Eyre"  presented  by 
Charlotte  before  its  authorship  was  ascertained  ; 
an  article  on  "  Advantages  of  Poverty,"  by  Mrs. 
Bronte  ;  a  highly  graphic  tale  and  religious  poems 
by  Mr.  Bronte.  Comment  upon  the  latter  re- 
minded Wood  that  Bronte  had  shown  him  some 
poems  by  an  Irish  ancestor  Hugh  Bronte,  and 
that  he  had  met  at  the  vicarage  an  irate  relative 
who  came  from  Ireland  with  a  shillalah  to 
*' break  the  head"  of  a  cruel  critic  of  "Jane 
Eyre."  Most  of  the  Bronte  belongings  were 
removed  by  Mr.  Nichols.  He  served  the  parish 
assiduously,  as  the  people  declare,  for  fifteen 
years,  and  at  Bronte's  death  they  desired  that 
Nichols  should  succeed  him  ;  but  the  living  was 
bestowed  upon  a  stranger,  and  Nichols  removed 
to  the  south  of  Ireland,  where  he  married  his 
cousin  and  is  now  a  gentleman  farmer.  Martha 
Brown,  the  devoted  servant  of  the  family,  accom- 
panied him,  and  Nancy  Wainwright,  the  Brontes' 
nurse,  died  some  years  ago  in  Bradford  work- 
house :  so  every  living  vestige  of  the  family  has 
disappeared  from  the  vicinage. 

A  resident  of  near-by  Wharfedale  lately  pos- 
sessed a  package  of  Charlotte's  essays,  written 
at  the  Brussels  school  and  amended  by  "  M. 
Paul."     Study  of  these  confirms  the  belief  that 

134 


Charlotte  Bronte's  Husband 

she  was  for  a  time  tortured  by  a  hopeless  love 
for  her  preceptor,  husband  of  "  Madame  Beck," 
and  that  it  was  this  wretched  passage  in  her  life, 
rather  than  the  fall  of  her  brother,  which 
**  drove  her  to  literary  speech  for  relief."  Her 
marriage  with  Nichols  was  eventually  happy, 
but  her  own  descriptions  of  him  show  that  his 
were  not  the  attributes  that  would  please  her 
fancy  or  readily  gain  her  love.  In  *'  Shirley" 
she  writes  of  him  as  successor  of  Malone  :  "  the 
circumstance  of  finding  himself  invited  to  tea 
with  a  Dissenter  would  unhinge  him  for  a  week  ; 
the  spectacle  of  a  Quaker  wearing  his  hat  in 
church,  the  thought  of  an  unbaptized  fellow- 
creature  being  interred  with  Christian  rites, 
these  things  would  make  strange  havoc  in  his 
physical  and  mental  economy."  In  a  letter  to 
E.  Charlotte  writes,  "  I  am  not  to  marry  Mr. 
Nichols.  I  couldn't  think  of  mentioning  such 
a  rumor  to  him,  even  as  a  joke.  It  would  make 
me  the  laughing-stock  of  himself  and  fellow- 
curates  for  half  a  year  to  come.  They  regard 
me  as  an  old  maid,  and  I  regard  them,  one  and  all, 
as  highly  uninteresting,  narrow,  and  unattractive 
specimens  of  the  coarser  sex."  Why  then  did 
she  finally  accept  Mr.  Nichols  ?  Was  it  not 
from  the  same  motive  that  had  led  her  to 
reject  his  addresses  not  long  before,  the  desire  to 
please  her  father  ? 

^5 


EARLY    HAUNTS   OF   ROBERT 
COLLYER:   EUGENE  ARAM 


Childhood  Home—Ilkley  Scenes,  Friends,  Smithy,  Chapel— 
Bolton— Associations-  fVordsivorth-Rogers-Eliot-  Turner- 
Aram^  s  Homes-Schools- Place  of  the  Murder-Gibhet— 
Probable  Innocence. 

'IP  HE  factory-town  of  Keighley, — amid  the 
moors  of  western  Yorkshire, — to  which  the 
Bronte  pilgrimage  brings  us,  becomes  itself  an 
object  of  interest  when  we  remember  it  was  the 
birthplace  of  Robert  Collyer.  On  a  dingy 
side-street  resonant  with  the  din  of  spindles  and 
looms  and  sullied  with  soot  from  factory  chim- 
neys, of  humble  parentage,  and  in  a  home  not 
less  lowly  than  that  of  another  Yorkshire  black- 
smith in  which  Faraday  was  born,  our  orator 
and  author  first  saw  the  light.  Collyer  came  to 
Keighley  *'  only  to  be  born,"  and  soon  was  re- 
moved to  the  lovely  Washburndale,  a  few  miles 
away.  Here  we  find  the  place  of  the  boyhood 
home  he  has  made  known  to  us — the  cottage  of 
two  rooms  with  whitewashed  walls  and  floor 
of  flags — occupied  by  the  mansion  of  a  mill- 
owner,  and  the  Collyer  family  vanished  from 
the  vicinage.  "  Little  Sam,"  the  kind-hearted 
father,  fell  dead  at  his  anvil  one  summer  day  ; 
the  blue-eyed,  fair-haired  mother,  of  whom  the 

136 


Early  Home — School — Companions 

preacher  so  loves  to  speak,  died  in  benign  age ; 
and  the  boisterous  bairns  who  once  filled  the  cot- 
tage are  scattered  in  the  Old  World  and  the  New. 
A  little  way  down  the  sparkling  burn  is  the  pictu- 
resque old  church  of  Fewston,  where  Collyer 
was  christened,  where  Amos  Barton  of  George 
Eliot's  tale  later  preached,  and  where  the  poet 
Edward    Fairfax — of  the  ancient   family  which 
gave  to  Virginia  its  best  blood — was  buried  with 
his  child  who  "was  held  to  have  died  of  witch- 
craft."    Near  by  was  Collyer's  school,  taught  by 
a    crippled    and    cross-eyed   old    fiddler    named 
Willie  Hardie,  who  survived  at  our  first  sojourn 
in  the  dale  and  had  much  to  tell  about  his  pupil 
"  Boab,"  whom  he  had  often  "  fairly  thrashed." 
Collyer's  school  education  ended  in  his  eighth 
year,  and  he  was  early  apprenticed  at  Ilkley,  in 
the    next    valley,  where    he    grew   to    physical 
manhood  and  attained  to  a  measure  of  that  intel- 
lectual stature  which  has  since  been  recognized. 
At  Ilkley  we  find  some  who  remember  when 
Collyer  came  first,  a  stripling  lad,  to  work  in 
*•  owd  Jackie's"  smithy,  and  who  in  the  long-ago 
worked,   played,   and   fought  with  him   in   the 
village   or  read  with  him   on  the  moors.     One 
remembers  that  he  was  from  the  first  an  insatiable 
student,  often  readinf,  as  he  plied  the  bellows  or 
switched  the  flies  from  a  customer's  horse.     His 
master   "Jackie"    Birch,    who   was    native    of 

137 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

Eugene  Aram's  home,  is  recalled  as  a  selfish  and 
unpopular  man,  who  had  no  sympathy  with  the 
lad's  studious  habit,  but  tolerated  it  when  it  did 
not  interfere  with  his  work.  Collyer's  love  of 
books  was  contagious,  and  soon  a  little  circle  of 
lads  habitually  assembled,  whenever  released 
from  toil,  to  read  with  him  the  volumes  borrowed 
from  friends  or  purchased  by  clubbing  their  own 
scant  hoards.  A  survivor  of  this  group  walked 
with  us  through  the  village,  pointing  out  the 
spots  associated  with  Collyer's  life  here,  and 
afterward  showed  us  upon  the  slopes  of  the 
overlooking  hills  the  nooks  where  the  lads  read 
together  in  summer  holidays.  Collyer  was 
especially  intimate  with  the  Dobsons :  of  these 
John  was  best  beloved,  because  he  shared  most 
fully  Collyer's  studies  and  aspirations  ;  between 
the  two  an  affectionate  friendship  was  formed 
which,  despite  long  separation  and  disparity  of 
position, — for  John  remained  a  laborer, — ended 
only  with  his  death.  When,  thirty  years  ago, 
Collyer — honored  and  famous — revisited  the 
scenes  of  his  early  struggles  and  was  eagerly  in- 
vited to  opulent  and  cultured  homes,  he  turned 
away  from  all  to  abide  in  the  humble  cottage  of 
Dobson,  which  we  found  near  the  site  of  the 
smithy  and  occupied  by  others  who  were  friends 
of  Collyer's  youth.  His  associates  of  the  early 
time — some  of  them  old  and  poor — tell  us  with 


Collyer's  Humble  Friends — The  Smithy 

obvious  pleasure  and  pride  of  his  visits  to  their 
poor  homes  in  these  later  summers  when  he 
comes  to  the  place,  and  we  suspect  he  often 
leaves  with  them  more  substantial  tokens  of  his 
remembrance  than  kind  words  and  wishes : 
indeed,  he  once  made  us  his  almoner  to  the  more 
needy  of  them,  one  of  whom  we  found  in  the 
workhouse.  Some  of  his  old-time  friends  recall 
the  circumstances  of  his  conversion  under  the 
preaching  of  a  Wesleyan  named  Bland,  his  own 
eloquent  and  touching  prayers,  and  his  first  tim- 
orous essays  to  conduct  the  services  of  the  little 
chapel  to  which  the  villagers  were  bidden  by 
the  bellman,  who  proclaimed  through  the  streets, 
"  The  blacksmith  will  preach  t'night."  When 
he  preaches  at  Ilkley  now,  the  Assembly-rooms 
are  thronged  with  friends,  old  and  new,  eager  to 
hear  him.  *' Jackie"  sleeps  with  his  fathers,  and 
the  smithy  is  replaced  by  a  modern  cottage,  into 
whose  masonry  many  blackened  stones  from  the 
old  forge  were  incorporated.  One  of  Collyer's 
chums  showed  us  the  door  of  the  smithy  which 
he  had  rescued  from  demolition  and  religiously 
preserved,  and  presented  us  with  a  photograph 
which  we  were  assured  represents  the  building 
just  as  Collyer  knew  it, — a  long,  low  fabric  of 
stone,  with  a  shed  joined  at  one  end,  two  forge 
chimneys  rising  out  of  the  roof,  and  the  rough 
doors  and  window-shutters  placarded  with  public 

139 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

notices.  Before  the  forge  was  demolished,  the 
large  two-horned  anvil  on  which  Collyer 
wrought  twelve  years  was  bought  for  a  price 
and  removed  to  Chicago,  where  it  is  still  pre- 
served in  the  study  of  Unity  Church,  albeit 
Collyer  long  ago  predicted  to  the  writer,  with 
a  characteristic  twinkle  and  a  sweet  hint  of  the 
dialect  his  tongue  was  born  to,  **  they'll  soon 
be  sellin'  thet  for  old  iron." 

The  health-giving  waters  of  the  hill-sides  attract 
hundreds  of  invalids  and  idlers,  and  the  Ilkley  of 
to-day  is  a  smart  town  of  well-kept  houses, 
hotels,  and  shops,  amid  which  we  find  here  and 
there  a  quaint  low-roofed  structure  which  is  a 
relic  of  the  village  of  Collyer's  boyhood. 
Among  the  survivals  is  the  chapel — now  a 
local  museum,  inaugurated  by  Collyer — where 
our  "  blacksmith"  was  converted  and  where  he 
labored  at  the  spiritual  anvil  as  a  local  preacher. 
He  has  told  us  that  for  his  labors  in  the  Wes- 
leyan  pulpit  during  several  years  in  Yorkshire 
and  America  he  received  in  all  seven  dollars  and 
fifty  cents ;  he  expounded  for  love,  but  pounded 
for  a  living.  Another  survival  is  the  ancient 
parish  church,  built  upon  the  site  of  the  Roman 
fortress  Olicana  and  of  stones  from  its  ruined 
walls,  which  preserves  in  its  masonry  many  anti- 
quarian treasures  of  Roman  sculpture  and  in- 
scription.    Standing  without  are    three  curious 

140 


Wharfedale  Antiquities — Scenery 

monolithic  columns,  graven  with  mythological 
figures  of  men,  dragons,  birds,  etc.,  which  give 
them  an  archsological  value  beyond  price.  A 
doltish  rector  damaged  them  by  using  them  as 
gate-posts ;  from  this  degradation  the  hands  of 
Collyer  helped  to  rescue  them,  and  the  same 
hands  fashioned  at  the  forge  the  neat  iron  gates 
which  enclose  the  church-yard. 

By  the  village  and  through  the  dale  which 
Gray  thought  so  beautiful  flows  the  Wharfe ; 
winding  amid  verdant  meads,  rushing  between 
lofty  banks,  or  loitering  in  sunny  shallows,  it 
holds  its  shining  course  to  the  Ouse,  beyond  the 
fateful  field  of  Towton,  where  the  red  rose  of 
Lancaster  went  down  in  blood.  Ilkley  nestles 
cosily  at  the  foot  of  green  slopes  which  swell 
away  from  the  stream  and  are  dotted  with  copses 
and  embowered  villas.  Farther  away  the  dim 
lines  rise  to  the  heights  of  the  Whernside, 
whence  we  look  to  the  chimneys  of  Leeds  and 
the  towers  of  York's  mighty  minster.  Detached 
from  Rumbald's  cliffs  lie  two  masses,  called 
**  Cow  and  Calf  Rocks,"  bearing  the  imprint  of 
giant  Rumbald's  foot :  these  rocks  are  a  resort 
of  the  young  people,  and  here  Collyer  and  his 
friends  oft  came  with  their  books.  From  this 
point  Wharfedale,  domed  by  a  summer  sky, 
seems  a  paradise  of  loveliness ;  its  every  aspect, 
from  the  glinting  stream  to  the  highest  moor- 

141 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

land  crags,  is  replete  with  the  beauty  Turner 
loved  to  paint  and  which  here  first  inspired  his 
genius.  Ruskin  discerns  this  Wharfedale  scenery 
throughout  the  great  artist's  works,  bits  of  its 
beauty  being  unconsciously  wrought  into  other 
scenes.  These  landscapes  were  a  daily  vision  to 
the  eyes  of  Collyer  in  the  days  when  Turner 
still  came  to  the  neighborhood.  This  region 
abounds  with  memorials  of  the  mighty  past, 
with  treasures  of  Druidical,  Runic,  and  Roman 
history  and  tradition,  but  the  literary  pilgrim 
finds  it  rife  with  associations  for  him  still  more 
interesting :  here  lived  the  ancestors  of  our 
Longfellow,  and  the  family  whence  Thackeray 
sprang;  the  fathers  of  that  gentle  singer,  Heber, 
dwelt  in  their  castle  here  and  sleep  now  under 
the  pavement  of  the  church  ;  a  little  way  across 
the  moors  the  Brontes  dwelt  and  died.  Here, 
too,  lived  the  Fairfaxes, — one  of  them  a  poet 
and  translator  of  Tasso, — and  among  their  tombs 
we  find  that  of  Fawkes  of  Farnley,  Turner's 
early  friend  and  patron,  while  at  the  near-by  hall 
are  the  rooms  the  painter  occupied  during  the 
years  he  was  transferring  to  canvas  the  beauties 
he  here  beheld.  Farnley  holds  the  best  private 
collection  of  Turner's  works,  comprising,  besides 
many  finished  pictures,  numerous  drawings  and 
color-sketches  made  here. 

A  delightful  excursion  from  Ilkley,  one  never 
142 


Bolton  Abbey — Nidderdale 

omitted  by  Collyer  from  his  summer  saunter- 
ings  in  Wharfedale,  is  to  the  sacred  shades  of 
Bolton  Abbey.  The  way  is  enlivened  with  the 
prattle  and  sheen  of  the  limpid  Wharfe.  A 
mile  past  the  hamlet  of  Addingham,  where 
Collyer  preached  his  first  sermon,  the  stream 
curves  about  a  slight  eminence  which  is  crowned 
by  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  shrine.  Some  por- 
tions of  the  walls  are  fallen  and  concealed  by 
shrubbery ;  other  portions  withstand  the  ravages 
of  the  centuries,  and  we  see  the  crumbling  arches, 
ruined  cloisters,  and  mullioned  windows,  man- 
tled with  masses  of  ivy  and  bloom  and  set  in  the 
scene  of  restful  beauty  which  Turner  painted 
and  Rogers  and  Wordsworth  poetized.  Our 
pleasure  in  the  ruin  and  its  environment  of  wood, 
mead,  and  stream  is  enhanced  by  the  companion- 
ship of  one  who  had,  on  another  summer's  day, 
explored  the  charms  of  the  spot  with  George 
Eliot,  and  who  repeats  to  us  her  expressions  of 
rapturous  delight  at  each  new  vista.  Words- 
worth loved  this  spot,  and  the  incident  to  which 
the  Abbey  owed  its  erection — the  drowning  of 
young  Romilly,  the  noble  "  Boy  of  Egremond," 
in  the  gorge  near  by — is  beautifully  told  by  him 
in  the  familiar  poems  written  here. 

Another  excursion,  by  Knaresborough  and 
the  deadly  field  of  Marston  Moor,  brings  us  into 
lovely  Nidderdale,  where  stalks  the  dusky  ghost 

143 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

of  the  Eugene  Aram  of  Bulwer's  tale  and  Hood's 
poem  amid  the  scenes  of  his  early  life  and  of 
the  crime  for  which  he  died.  In  the  upper 
portion  of  the  valley  the  Nidd  winds  like  a 
ribbon  of  silver  between  green  braes  and  moor- 
land hills  which  rise  steeply  to  the  narrow 
horizon.  From  either  side  brooklets  flow 
through  wooded  glens  to  join  the  wimpling 
Nidd,  and  at  the  mouth  of  one  of  these  we  find 
Ramsgill,  where  Aram  was  born.  It  is  a  strag- 
gling hamlet  of  thatched  cottages,  set  among 
bowering  orchards  and  gardens  and  wearing  an 
aspect  of  tranquil  comfort.  The  site  of  the 
laborer's  hut  in  which  the  gentle  student  was 
born  is  shown  at  the  back  of  one  of  the  newer 
cottages  of  the  place.  Farther  up  the  picturesque 
stream  is  the  pretty  village  of  Lofthouse,  an 
assemblage  of  gray  stone  houses  nestled  beneath 
clustering  trees,  to  which  Aram  returned  after  a 
short  residence  at  Skipton,  in  the  dale  of  the 
Brontes.  Here  he  wooed  sweet  Annie  Spence 
and  passed  his  early  years  of  married  life ;  here 
his  first  children  were  born  and  one  of  them 
died.  At  the  church  in  near-by  Middlesmoor 
he  was  married ;  here  his  first  child  was  chris- 
tened, and  in  the  bleak  church-yard  it  was  buried. 
Near  a  sombre  "  gill"  which  opens  into  the 
valley  some  distance  below  was  Gowthwaite 
Hall,  where   Aram   taught  his  first  pupils, — an 

144 


Aram's  Schools — Place  of  Murder 

ancient,  rambling  structure  of  stone,  two  stories 
in  height,  with  many  steep  gables  and  wide 
latticed  windows.  Venerable  trees  shaded  the 
walls,  leafy  vines  climbed  to  and  overran  the 
roofs,  and  a  quaint  garden  of  prim  squares  and 
formally  trimmed  foliage  lay  at  one  side.  We 
found  these  externals  little  changed  since  Aram 
was  tutor  here.  The  partition  of  the  mansion 
into  three  tenements  had  altered  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  interior,  but  the  wide  stairway  still 
led  from  the  entrance  to  the  upper  room  at  the 
east  end,  where  Aram  taught :  it  was  a  large, 
lofty  apartment,  reputed  to  be  haunted,  changed 
since  his  time  only  by  the  closing  of  one  case- 
ment. Richard  Craven  was  then  tenant  of  the 
Hall,  and  his  son,  the  erudite  doctor,  doubtless 
received  his  first  tuition  in  this  room  and  from 
Aram. 

Some  miles  down  the  valley  is  Knaresborough, 
to  which  Aram  removed  from  Lofthouse  to  estab- 
lish a  school,  and  where  eleven  years  later  the 
murder  was  committed.  Soon  after,  Aram  re- 
moved from  the  neighborhood,  and  during  his 
residence  at  Lynn,  where  he  was  arrested  for 
the  crime,  he  was  some  time  tutor  in  the  house 
of  Bulwer's  grandfather,  a  circumstance  which 
led  to  the  production  of  the  fascinating  tale.  A 
little  way  out  of  Knaresborough,  in  a  recess  at  the 
base  of  the  limestone  cliffs  which  here  border 

K  145 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

the  murmuring  Nidd,  is  the  place  where  Clarke 
was  killed  and  buried.  This  impressive  spot 
was  long  the  hermitage  of  "  Saint  Robert,"  who 
formed  the  cave  out  of  the  crag.  In  clearing 
the  rubbish  from  the  place  after  the  publication 
of  Bulwer's  tale,  the  remains  of  a  little  shrine 
were  found,  and  a  coffin  hewn  from  the  rock, 
which  proved  that  the  hermitage  had  before 
been  a  place  of  burial,  as  urged  by  Aram  in  his 
defence.  Upon  a  hill  of  the  forest  not  far  away 
the  body  of  Aram  hung  in  irons,  and  local 
tradition  avers  that  his  widow  watched  to  recover 
the  bones  as  they  fell,  and  when  she  had  at  last 
interred  them  all,  emigrated  with  her  children 
to  America. 

It  is  noteworthy  that  belief  in  his  innocence 
was  universal  among  those  who  knew  him  in  this 
countryside.  Incidents  illustrating  his  self- 
denial,  patient  forbearance,  disregard  for  money, 
and  care  to  preserve  even  the  lowest  forms 
of  life  are  still  cherished  and  recounted  here  as 
showing  that  robbery  and  murder  were  for 
him  impossible  crimes.  We  were  reminded,  too, 
that  at  the  time  of  Clarke's  disappearance 
Aram  was  husband  of  a  woman  of  his  own 
station,  father  of  a  family,  and  master  of  a 
moderately  prosperous  school, — conditions  of 
which  Bulwer  could  scarcely  have  been  unaware, 
and  which  are  inconsistent  with  the  only  motives 

146 


Belief  in  Aram's  Innocence 

suggested  as  inciting  Aram  to  crime.  In  the 
opinion  of  the  descendants  of  Aram's  old  neigh- 
bors in  his  native  Nidderdale,  Houseman  was 
alone  guilty  ;  and  if  Aram  had,  instead  of  under- 
taking to  conduct  his  own  defence,  intrusted  it  to 
proper  counsel,  the  trial  would  have  resulted  in 
his  acquittal. 


147 


HOxME  OF   SYDNEY  SMITH 

Hes/ington— Fasten,  Twelve  Miles  from  a  Lemon-Church— 
Rector''  s  Head  —  Study  —  Room-of-all-ivork  —  Grounds- 
Guests-  Universal  Scratc her— Immortal  Chariot-Reminis- 
cences. 

'  I  ^HE  metropolis  of  England  holds  many 
places  which  knew  "  the  greatest  of  the 
many  Smiths  :"  dwellings  he  some  time  inhabited, 
mansions  in  which  he  was  the  honored  guest, 
pulpits  and  rostrums  from  which  he  discoursed, 
the  room  in  which  he  died,  the  tomb  where 
loving  hands  laid  him  beside  his  son.  But  it  is 
in  a  remote  valley  of  Yorkshire,  where  half  his 
adult  years  were  passed  in  a  lonely  retreat  among 
the  humble  poor,  that  we  find  the  scenes  most 
intimately  associated  with  the  fruitful  period  of 
his  life.  In  the  lovely  dale  of  York,  not  far 
from  one  of  the  ancient  gates  and  within  sound 
of  the  bells  of  the  great  minster,  is  the  village 
of  Heslington,  Smith's  first  place  of  abode  in 
Yorkshire.  His  dwelling  here — lately  the 
rectory  of  a  parish  which  has  been  created  since 
his  time,  and  one  of  the  best  houses  of  the  village 
— is  a  spacious  and  substantial  old-fashioned 
mansion  of  brick,  two  stories  in  height  and 
delightfully  cosy  in  appearance.  Large  bow- 
windows,  built  by  Smith,  project  from  the  front 
and  rise  to  the  eaves.     The  rooms  are  of  com- 

14.3 


Heslington — Foston-le-Clay 

fortable  dimensions,  and  that  in  which  Smith 
wrote  is  "  glorified"  by  the  sunlight  from  one 
of  his  great  windows,  near  which  his  writing- 
table  was  placed.  The  house  stands  a  rod  or 
two  from  the  highway,  amid  a  mass  of  foliage ; 
an  iron  railing  borders  the  yard,  trees  grow  upon 
either  side,  and  at  the  back  is  an  ample  garden 
which  was  Smith's  especial  delight,  and  which 
he  paced  for  hours  as  he  pondered  his  composi- 
tions. It  was  here  that  the  dignified  Jeffrey  of 
the  Edinburgh  Review  rode  the  children's  pet 
donkey  over  the  grass.  Smith's  famous  **  Peter 
Plimley"  letters  were  produced  at  Heslington. 
He  never  felt  at  home  here,  because  he  constantly 
contemplated  removing.  His  own  parish  had 
no  rectory,  and  he  was  permitted  by  his  bishop 
to  reside  here  while  he  sought  to  exchange  the 
living  for  another  :  failing  in  this,  he  was  allowed 
a  further  term  in  which  to  erect  a  dwelling  in 
his  parish,  consequently  Heslington  was  his 
home  for  some  years.  During  this  time  he 
made  weekly  excursions  to  his  church,  twelve 
miles  distant,  behind  a  steed  which  he  commem- 
orates as  Peter  the  Cruel,  and  in  the  year  he 
built  his  parsonage  the  excursions  were  so 
frequent  that  he  computed  he  had  ridden  Peter 
"  several  times  round  the  world,  going  and 
coming  from  Heslington." 

In   the  remoter   hamlet   of  Foston,  "  twelve 
149 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

miles  from  a  lemon,"  we  find  the  church  where 
he  ministered  for  twenty  years  and  the  house 
which  was  his  home  longer  than  any  other. 
Our  way  thither — the  same  once  so  familiar  to 
Smith  and  his  cruel  steed — lies  along  the  green 
valley  through  which  the  wimpling  Foss  ripples 
and  sings  on  its  way  to  the  Ouse.  In  sun  and 
shadow  our  road  leads  through  a  pleasant  country 
until  we  see  the  roofs  of  Smith's  parsonage 
rising  among  the  tree-tops.  The  Rector's  Head, 
as  the  wit  delighted  to  call  his  home,  stands 
among  the  glebe-lands  at  a  little  distance  from 
the  highway,  and  a  carriage-drive — constructed 
by  Smith  after  some  of  his  guests  had  been 
almost  inextricably  mired  in  their  attempts  to 
reach  his  door — conducts  from  a  road-side  gate 
near  the  school  through  the  tasteful  and  well- 
kept  grounds.  Before  we  reach  the  rectory  a 
second  barrier  is  encountered,  Smith's  "  Screech- 
ing Gate,"  which,  like  the  gate  at  "  Amen 
Corner,"  remains  just  as  it  was  when  he  be- 
stowed its  name.  The  mansion,  of  which  he 
was  both  architect  and  builder,  described  by  him 
and  his  friend  Loch  as  "  the  ugliest  house  ever 
seen,"  presents  a  singularly  attractive  aspect  of 
cosiness  and  comfort.  The  edifice  is  somewhat 
improved  since  the  great  essayist  dwelt  beneath 
its  roof,  but  the  original  structure  remains, — an 
oblong  brick   fabric,  of  ample  proportions  and 

ISO 


Smith's  Parsonage 

unpretentious  architecture,  two  stories  in  height, 
with  hip-roofs  of  warm-tinted  tiles.  A  large 
bay-window  struts  from  one  side  wall ;  a  beauti- 
ful conservatory  abuts  upon  another  side ;  a 
little  porch,  overgrown  with  creepers  and 
flowers,  protects  the  entrance.  The  once  plain 
brickwork,  which  rose  bare  of  ornamentation,  is 
mantled  with  ivy  and  flowering  vines  which 
clamber  to  the  roofs  and  riot  along  the  walls, 
imparting  to  the  "  unparsonic  parsonage"  a 
picturesque  charm  which  no  architectural  decora- 
tion could  produce.  The  bare  field  in  which 
Smith  erected  his  house  has  been  transformed 
into  an  Eden  of  beauty  and  bloom ;  on  every 
side  are  velvety  lawns,  curving  walks,  beds  of 
flowers,  patches  of  shrubbery,  and  groups  of 
woodland  trees,  forming  a  pretty  park,  mostly 
planned  by  Smith  and  planted  by  his  hand. 
Within,  we  find  the  apartments  spacious  and 
cheerful :  the  windows  are  the  same  that  were 
screened  by  the  many-hued  patchwork  shades 
designed  by  Smith  and  wrought  by  the  deft  fin- 
gers of  his  daughters,  the  chimney-pieces  of 
Portland  stone  which  he  erected  remain,  but 
tasteful  and  elegant  furniture  now  replaces  the 
rude  handiwork  of  the  village  carpenter,  which 
was  disposed  through  these  rooms  during  Smith's 
incumbency.  He  blithely  tells  a  guest,  "  I 
needed  furniture  ;  I  bought  a  cart-load  of  boards 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

and  got  the  carpenter.  Jack  Robinson  ;  told  him, 
•  Jack,  furnish  my  house,'  and  you  see  the  result." 
Some  of  the  resulting  furniture  is  still  preserved 
in   the  neighborhood   and   valued   above   price. 
From  the  bay-window  of  the  parlor  the  gray 
towers  of  York's  colossal  cathedral  are  seen  ten 
miles  away ;  the  room  adjoining  at  the  left  is  the 
memorable  apartment  which  was  Smith's  study, 
school-room,  court,  surgery,  and  what-not.    Here 
his  gayly-bound    books   were    arranged    by   his 
daughter,  the   future  Lady   Holland,  and  here, 
when  not  applied  to  him,  his  famous  "  rheumatic 
armor"  stood  in  a  bag  in  yonder  corner.     Here 
he  wrote  his  sermons,  his   brilliant  and  witty 
essays,   the   wise  and  effective  disquisitions  on 
the  disabilities  of  the  Catholics,  the  coruscating 
and  incisive  articles  for  the  Review  which  elec- 
trified  the   English   world.      In   this   room   he 
taught  his  children  and  gave  Bible  lessons  to  the 
youth  of  the  parish,  some  of  whom  survive  to 
praise  and  bless  him ;  here,  too,  he  prescribed  for 
the  sick  and  dispensed  mercy  rather  than  justice 
to  culprits  haled  before  him ;  for,  as  his  letters 
declare,  he  was  at  once  "  village  magistrate,  vil- 
lage parson,  village  doctor,  village  comforter,  and 
Edinburgh    Reviewer."      To     these    manifold 
avocations  he  added,  despite  his  "  not  knowing 
a  turnip  from  a  carrot,"  that  of  the  farmer,  and 
managed  the  three  hundred  acres  of  glebe-lands 

15a 


Fields  and  Farmsteading 

which  were  so  unproductive  that  no  one  else 
would  cultivate  them.  A  door-way  of  the  rectory 
overlooks  most  of  the  plantation,  and  he  sus- 
pended here  a  telescope  and  a  tremendous  speak- 
ing-trumpet by  means  of  which  he  could  ob- 
serve and  direct  much  of  his  operations  without 
himself  going  afield.  Behind  the  house,  and 
screened  by  trees  which  Smith  planted,  are  the 
farmstead  buildings  he  planned ;  here  are  the 
stables  and  pens  where  he  was  welcomed  by 
every  individual  of  his  stock,  whom  he  daily 
visited  to  feed  and  pet ;  here  is  the  enclosure 
where  he  found  his  fuddled  pigs  "  grunting  God 
save  the  King  about  the  sty"  after  he  had  admin- 
istered a  medicament  of  fermented  grains.  In 
the  adjoining  field  is  the  site  of  his  "  Universal 
Scratcher," — a  sharp-edged  pole  having  a  tall 
support  at  one  extremity  and  a  low  one  at  the 
other,  which  so  adapted  it  to  the  height  of  every 
animal  that  "  they  could  scratch  themselves  with 
the  greatest  facility  and  luxury ;  even  the 
*  Reviewer'  [himself]  could  take  his  turn." 

Of  Smith's  life  in  this  retirement  his  many 
letters  and  the  memoirs  of  his  daughter  give  us 
pleasant  pictures.  Although  he  said  his  whole 
life  had  "  been  passed  like  a  razor,  in  hot  water 
or  a  scrape,"  the  years  spent  here  seem  to  have 
been  happy  ones.  Even  his  removal  to  this 
house  while  it  was  yet  so  damp  that  the  walls 

153 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

ran  down  with  wet  and  the  grounds  were  so 
miry  that  his  wife  lost  her  shoes  at  the  door, 
was  made  enjoyable.  He  writes  to  one  friend, 
"  I  am  too  busy  to  be  lonely  ;"  to  another,  "  I 
thank  God  who  made  me  poor  that  he  also 
made  me  merry,  a  better  gift  than  much  land  with 
a  doleful  heart ;"  to  another,  "  I  am  content 
and  doubling  in  size  every  year ;"  to  Lady  Grey, 
*'  Come  and  see  how  happy  people  can  be  in  a 
small  parsonage ;"  to  Jeffrey,  "  My  situation  is 
one  of  great  solitude,  but  I  possess  myself  in 
cheerfulness."  He  had  expended  upon  his  im- 
provements here  more  than  the  living  was  worth, 
therefore  economy  ruled  the  selection  of  the 
personnel  of  this  establishment.  Faithful  Annie 
Kay  was  first  employed  as  child's-maid  ;  later  she 
was  housekeeper  and  trusted  friend,  removed 
from  here  with  her  loved  master,  attended  him 
in  his  last  illness,  and  lies  near  him  in  the  long 
sleep.  A  garden  girl,  made  like  a  mile-stone, 
was  hired  by  Smith,  who  **  christened  her  Bunch, 
gave  her  a  napkin,  and  made  her  his  butler." 
Jack  Robinson  was  retained  as  general  factotum 
of  the  place,  and  Molly  Mills,  "  a  yeowoman, 
with  short  petticoat,  legs  like  mill-posts,  and 
cheeks  shrivelled  like  winter  apples,"  did  duty  as 
"  cow-,  pig-,  poultry-,  garden-,  and  post-woman." 
Guests  testify  that  good-natured  training  had, 
out  of  this  unpromising  material,  produced  such 

'54 


Guests — Reminiscences 

efficient  servants  that  the  household  ran  smoothly 
in  the  stress  of  much  company.  For,  despite  the 
seclusion  of  Smith's  retreat,  his  fame  and  the 
charm  and  wit  of  his  conversation  drew  many 
visitors  to  his  house.  Lords  Carlisle  and  Mor- 
peth were  almost  weekly  guests ;  Sir  Humphry 
Davy  and  his  gifted  wife  were  many  times  guests 
for  days  together ;  among  those  who  came  less 
frequently  were  Jeffrey,  Macaulay,  Marcet, 
Dugald  Stewart,  John  Murray,  Mackintosh,  and 
Lord  and  Lady  Holland,  with  many  of  less 
fame ;  and  we  may  imagine  something  of  the 
scintillant  converse  these  rooms  knew  when  the 
master  wit  entertained  such  company.  Neither 
his  friends  nor  his  literary  pursuits  were  allowed 
to  interfere  with  his  attentions  to  the  simple 
rustics  of  his  parish  ;  in  sickness  and  trouble  he 
was  tireless  in  their  service,  furnishing  medicines, 
food,  and  clothing  out  of  his  slender  means. 
During  the  prevalence  of  an  infectious  fever  he 
was  constantly  among  them,  as  physician,  nurse, 
and  priest.  The  oldest  parishioners  speak  of  him 
by  his  Christian  name,  and  testify  that  he  was 
universally  beloved.  One  lately  remembered 
that  Sydney  had  cared  for  his  father  during  a 
long  illness  and  maintained  the  family  until  he 
could  return  to  his  work.  Another  had  been 
accustomed,  as  a  child,  to  run  after  Sydney  on 
the  highway  and  cling  to  him  until  he  bestowed 

155 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

the  sugar-plums  he  always  carried  in  his  pockets. 
In  one  portion  of  the  glebe  we  found  small 
enclosures  of  land  stocked  with  abundant  fruit- 
trees  and  called  Sydney's  Orchards,  which  were 
planted  by  him  and  given  to  the  parishioners  at 
a  nominal  rental. 

Smith's  solitary  excursions  through  the  parish 
were  made  astride  a  gaunt  charger,  called  by  him 
Calamity,  noted  for  length  of  limb  and  strength 
of  appetite,  as  well  as  for  a  propensity  to  part 
company  with  his  rider,  sometimes  throwing  the 
great  Smith  "  over  his  head  into  the  next  parish." 
But  when  the  rector's  family  were  to  accom- 
pany him,  the  ancient  green  chariot  was 
employed.  This  was  believed  to  have  been  the 
first  vehicle  of  the  kind,  was  purchased  by  Smith 
at  second  (or  twenty-second)  hand,  and  was  from 
time  to  time  partially  restored  by  the  unskilled 
village  mechanics.  Anent  this  structure  the 
delightful  Smith  writes,  "  Each  year  added  to  its 
charms :  it  grew  younger  and  younger :  a  new 
wheel,  a  new  spring ;  I  christened  it  the  Im- 
mortal :  it  was  known  everywhere :  the  village 
boys  cheered  it,  the  village  dogs  barked  at  it." 
To  the  ends  of  the  shafts  Smith  attached  a  rod 
so  that  it  projected  in  front  of  the  horse  and 
sustained  a  measure  of  grain  just  beyond  his 
reach, — a  device  which  evoked  a  maximum  of 
speed    from    the    beast  with   the    minimum   of 

156 


The  Chariot — Church 

exertion  on  the  part  of  the  driver,  the  deluded 
horse  being  "  stimulated  to  unwonted  efforts  by 
hope  of  overtaking  the  provender."  We  have 
talked  with  some  in  the  vicinage  who  remem- 
bered seeing  Smith  and  his  family  riding  in  this 
perennial  chariot,  drawn  by  a  plough-horse 
which  was  harnessed  with  plough-lines  and 
driven  by  a  plough-boy. 

A  mile  from  the  rectory,  past  the  few  strag- 
gling cottages  of  the  hamlet,  we  come  to  the 
quaint  little  church  of  Foston,  one  of  the  oldest 
in  England.  It  was  already  in  existence  in  1081 
when  Doomsday  Book  was  compiled,  being  then 
the  property  of  Earl  Allen  :  later  it  was  con- 
veyed to  St.  Mary's  Abbey,  whose  ruins — mar- 
vellously beautiful  even  in  decay — we  find  at  the 
gates  of  York.  It  is  noteworthy  that  this  church 
of  Foston  early  contained  an  image  of  the  Virgin 
of  such  repute  that  people  flocked  to  it  in  great 
numbers,  and  in  13 13  the  archbishop  issued  an 
edict  that  they  should  not  desert  their  own 
churches  to  come  here.  Smith's  church  is 
prettily  placed  upon  a  gentle  eminence  from 
which  we  look  across  a  wave-like  expanse  of 
smiling  fields  to  steeper  slopes  beyond,  a  picture 
of  pastoral  peace  and  calm.  Beneath  the  many 
mouldering  heaps  of  the  church-yard  sleep  the 
rustic  poor  for  whom  Smith  labored,  many  of 
them  having   been  committed   to  their  narrow 

157 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

cells,  "  in  the  certain  hope  of  the  life  to  come," 
by  his  kindly  hands.  Among  the  graves  stands 
the  old  church,  the  plainest  and  smallest  of  its 
kind.  The  present  venerable  and  reverend  in- 
cumbent, to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  many 
courtesies,  has  at  his  own  expense  restored  the 
chancel  as  a  memorial  of  his  wife,  but  the 
principal  portion  of  the  edifice  remains  the  same 
"  miserable  hovel"  that  Macaulay  described  in 
Smith's  day.  A  heavy  porch  shelters  the  en- 
trance, and  above  this  is  a  sculptured  Norman 
arch  of  great  antiquity,  a  Scripture  subject  being 
graven  upon  each  stone,  that  upon  the  key-block 
representing  the  Last  Supper.  The  bare  walls 
are  surmounted  by  a  dilapidated  belfry,  and  the 
barn-like  edifice  is  desolate  and  neglected.  We 
find  the  interior  dismal  and  depressive,  and  quite 
unchanged  since  Smith's  time,  save  that  the  stove- 
pipe now  enters  a  flue  instead  of  emerging 
through  a  window.  The  quaint  old  pulpit, 
perched  high  in  the  corner  opposite  the  gallery 
and  beneath  a  huge  sounding-board,  is  the  same 
in  which  he  so  often  stood ;  its  frayed  and  faded 
cushions  are  said  to  be  those  that  he  belabored 
in  his  discourses,  and  out  of  which,  on  one 
occasion,  he  raised  such  a  cloud  of  dust  "  that 
for  some  minutes  he  lost  sight  of  the  congrega- 
tion." The  pewter  communion  plate  he  used 
is  preserved  in  a  recess  of  the  wall.     Across  the 

158 


Smith's  Church 

end  and  along  one  side  of  the  church  extends  a 
gallery,  in  which  sat  the  children  under  Smith's 
sharp  eye,  and  kept  in  order,  as  some  remember, 
by  "  a  threaten-shake  of  his  head."  Along  the 
front  of  this  gallery  ugly  wooden  pegs  are  aligned, 
on  which  the  occupants  of  the  pews  hang  their 
wraps,  and  so  diminutive  is  the  place  that  there 
are  but  four  pews  between  door  and  pulpit. 
The  present  rector,  whose  father  owned  most 
of  the  parish  and  was  Smith's  firm  friend,  at- 
tended as  a  boy  Smith's  ministrations  here,  and 
remembers  something  of  the  direct  eloquence 
of  his  sermons  and  their  impressive  effect  upon 
the  auditors.  Attracted  by  his  fame,  some  came 
from  far  to  hear  him  preach  who  afterward 
became  his  ardent  friends,  among  these  being 
Pvlacaulay  and  the  Mrs.  Apreece  whom  de  Stael 
depicted  as  **  Corinne"  and  who  subsequently, 
as  wife  of  Humphry  Davy,  was  guest  at  The 
Rector's  Head.  In  this  shabby  little  church 
Smith  gave  away  his  daughter  Emily,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  York  reading  the  marriage  service ; 
and  not  long  after  Smith  removed  to  Somerset, 
and  Foston  saw  him  no  more. 

The  church  contains  no  memorial  of  any  sort 
in  memory  of  Smith.  The  decayed  condition 
of  this  temple  has  long  been  a  reproach  to  the 
resident  gentry.  Since  those  whose  property 
interests  are  most   concerned  in  the  restoration 

159 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

of  the  church  have  declined  to  enter  upon  it, 
the  good  rector  contemplates  undertaking  it  at 
his  own  charge.  Not  long  ago  he  was  engaged 
upon  the  plans,  and  it  may  be  that,  by  the  time 
these  pages  reach  the  reader,  Foston  church  as 
Smith  knew  it  will  have  ceased  to  exist.  The 
writer  has  a  lively  hope  that  some  of  the  New 
World  pilgrims  who  have  marked  other  Old 
World  shrines  which  else  had  been  neglected, 
will  set  in  these  renovated  walls  an  enduring 
memorial — of  pictured  glass  or  sculptured  stone 
or  graven  metal — in  remembrance  of  the  illus- 
trious author-divine  who,  during  his  best  years, 
ministered  in  this  lowly  place  to  a  congregation 
of  rude  and  unlettered  poor. 


z6o 


NITHSDALE   RAMBLES 


Scott  —  Hogg  —  Words-worth  —  Carlyle'  s  Birthplace  —  Homes  — 
Gra-ve—Burns^  s  Haunts— Tomb— J eanie  Deans— Old  Mor- 
tality, etc. -Annie  Laurie's  Birthplace— Habitation— Poet- 
Lo-ver-Descendants. 

17  ROM  the  "  Heart  of  Mid-Lothian"  and  the 
•*•  many  shrines  of  picturesque  Edinburgh, 
once  the  literary  capital  of  Britain,  our  saunter- 
ings  bring  us  to  other  haunts  of  the  "  Wizard 
of  the  North  :"  to  his  oft  described  Abbotsford, 
— that  baronial  *•  romance  in  stone  and  lime," — 
with  its  libraries  and  armories,  its  precious 
relics  and  more  precious  memories  of  its  illus- 
trious builder  and  occupant,  who  here  literally 
"  wrote  himself  to  death  ;"  to  the  dream-like, 
ivy-grown  ruins  of  holy  Melrose,  whose  beauties 
he  sang  and  within  whose  crumbling  walls  he 
lingered  and  mused ;  to  his  tomb  fittingly  placed 
amid  the  ruined  arches  and  mouldering  pillars 
of  Dryburgh  Abbey,  embowered  by  venerable 
trees  and  mantled  by  clinging  vines.  Strolling 
thence  among  the  "  Braes  of  Yarrow,"  the  Yar- 
row of  Wordsworth  and  Hamilton,  through  the 
haunts  of  Hogg  the  Ettrick  Shepherd,  and  pass- 
ing the  Hartfell,  we  come  into  the  dale  of 
Annan,  and  follow  that  winsome  water  past 
Moffat,  where  lived  Burns's  daughter,  to  historic 
Applegarth,  and  thence  by  Lockerby  approach 
I'  i6i 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

Ecclefechan,  the  hamlet  of  Carlyle's  birth  and 
sepulture.  Among  the  lowly  stone  cottages  on 
the  straggling  street  of  the  rude  village  is  a 
double  dwelling  with  an  arched  passage-way 
through  the  middle  of  its  lower  story  ;  this 
humble  structure  was  erected  by  the  stone- 
mason James  Carlyle,  and  the  northern  end  of  it 
was  his  home  when  his  illustrious  son  was  born. 
Opening  from  the  street  is  a  narrow  door  ;  beside 
it  is  a  diminutive  window,  with  a  similar  one 
above  and  another  over  the  arch.  The  exterior 
is  now  smartened  somewhat, — the  shillings  of 
pilgrims  would  pay  for  that, — but  the  abode  is 
pathetically  small,  bare,  and  poor.  The  one 
lower  room  is  so  contracted  that  the  Carlyles 
could  not  all  sit  at  the  table,  and  Thomas  used 
to  eat  his  porridge  outside  the  door.  Some 
Carlyle  relics  from  Cheyne  Row — letters,  por- 
traits, pieces  of  china,  study-lamp,  tea-caddy, 
and  other  articles — are  preserved  in  the  room 
above,  and  adjoining  it  is  the  narrow  chamber 
above  the  archway  where  the  great  historian, 
essayist,  and  cynic  was  born.  In  this  comfort- 
less home,  and  amid  the  dreary  surroundings  of 
this  hard  and  rough  village,  which  is  little  im- 
proved since  the  days  of  border  war  and  pillage, 
he  was  reared.  The  stern  savagery  of  the 
physical  horizon  of  his  boyhood  here,  and  the 
hateful  and  uncongenial  character  of  his  environ- 

162 


Carlyle's  Birthplace — Grave 

ment  at  the  most  impressionable  period  of  his 
life,  may  account  to  us  for  much  of  the  morose 
cynicism  of  his  later  years.  Further  excuse  for 
his  petulance  and  his  acerbities  of  tongue  and 
temper  is  found  in  his  dyspepsia,  and  a  very 
limited  experience  of  Ecclefechan  cookery  suf- 
fices to  convince  us  that  his  indigestion  was 
another  unhappy  sequence  of  his  early  life  in 
this  border  hamlet.  In  "  Sartor  Resartus"  he 
has  vivaciously  recorded  some  of  the  incidents 
and  impressions  of  his  childhood  here, — notably 
the  passage  of  the  Carlisle  coach,  like  "  some 
terrestrial  moon,  coming  from  he  knewr  not 
where,  going  he  knew  not  whither."  A  shabby 
cross-street  leads  to  the  village  graveyard, 
which  was  old  a  thousand  years  ago,  and  there, 
within  a  few  rods  of  the  spot  of  his  birth,  the 
great  Carlyle  is  forever  laid,  with  his  parents 
and  kindred.  The  yard  is  a  forlorn  enclosure, 
huddled  with  hundreds  of  unmarked  graves,  and 
with  other  hundreds  of  crumbling  memorials 
drooping  aslant  among  the  brambles  which  infest 
the  place.  The  tombstone  of  Carlyle,  within 
an  iron  railing,  is  a  little  more  pretentious 
than  those  about  it,  but  his  grave  seems 
neglected ;  daisies  and  coarse  grass  grow  about 
it,  and  the  only  tokens  of  reverent  memory 
it  bears  are  placed  by  Americans,  who  constitute 
the  majority  of  the  pilgrims  to  this  place.     Not 

163 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

lAT  from  the  kirk-yard  is  a  lowly  cottage,  hardly 
better  than  a  hut,  in  which  dwelt  Burns's  "  Lass 
of  Ecclefechan." 

By  a  transverse  road  from  Lockerby  we  come 
to  the  ruined  Lochmaben  Castle  of  Bruce,  and 
thence  into  Nithsdale  and  to  Dumfries,  the 
ancient  capital  of  southwestern  Scotland,  Here 
lived  Edward  Irving,  and  here  Allan  Cunning- 
ham toiled  as  a  common  mason  ;  but  the  gray 
town  is  interesting  to  us  chiefly  because  of  its 
associations  with  Burns.  Here  are  the  tavern, 
familiar  to  us  as  the  "  howfF,"  which  he  fre- 
quented, and  where  he  made  love  to  the  bar- 
maid, "  Anna  of  the  Gowden  Locks ;"  the 
parlor  where  his  wit  kept  the  table  in  a  roar ; 
the  heavy  chair  in  the  "  ingle  neuk"  where  he 
habitually  sat,  and,  in  the  room  above,  the  lines 
to  "  Lovely  Polly  Stewart"  graven  by  his  hand 
upon  the  pane.  From  the  inn  a  malodorous 
lane,  named  Burns  Street,  and  oft  threaded  by 
the  bard  when  he  "  wasna  fou  but  just  had 
plenty,"  leads  to  the  poor  dwelling  where  lived 
and  died  the  poet  of  his  country  and  of  mankind. 
An  environment  more  repulsive  and  depressing, 
a  spot  more  unworthy  to  be  the  home  of  a  poet 
of  nature,  can  scarcely  be  imagined.  Here  not 
a  flower  nor  a  green  bough,  not  even  a  grass- 
blade,  met  his  vision,  not  one  beautiful  object 
appeased    his    poetic    taste ;    he    saw    only    the 

164 


Dumfries — Bums's  Dwelling — Tomb 

squalid  street  infested  by  unwashed  bairns  and 
bordered  by  rows  of  mean  cottages.  How  shall 
we  extol  the  genius  which  in  such  an  uncon- 
genial atmosphere  produced  those  exquisite 
poems  which  for  a  century  have  been  read  and 
loved  in  every  clime  ?  His  own  dwelling,  a 
bare  two-storied  cottage,  is  hardly  more  decent 
than  its  neighbors.  Within,  we  find  a  kitchen 
and  sitting-room,  small  and  low-ceiled  ;  above,  a 
windowed  closet, — sometimes  used  by  the  poet 
as  a  study, — and  the  poor  little  chamber  where 
he  died,  only  thirty-seven  years  after  he  first 
saw  the  light  in  the  clay  biggin  by  his  bonnie 
Doon. 

The  interior  of  St.  Michael's  Church  has 
been  refitted,  and  the  sacristan  can  show  us  now 
only  the  site  of  Burns's  seat,  behind  a  great 
pillar  which  hid  him  from  the  preacher,  and 
that  of  the  Jenny  on  whose  bonnet  he  saw  the 
"  crowlin'  "  pediculus.  Through  the  crowded 
church-yard  a  path  beaten  by  countless  pilgrims 
from  every  quarter  of  the  globe  conducts  to  the 
place  where  he  lies  with  "  Bonnie  Jean"  and 
some  of  their  children.  The  costly  mausoleum 
which  now  covers  his  tomb — erected  by  those 
who  had  neglected  or  shunned  him  in  his  life — 
is  to  us  less  impressive  than  the  poor  little  grave- 
stone which  the  faithful  Jean  first  placed  above 
him,  which  now  forms  part  of  the  pavement. 

i6s 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

The  ambitious  statue,  designed  to  represent 
Genius  throwing  her  mantle  over  Burns  at  the 
plough,  suggests,  as  some  one  has  said,  that  a 
bath-woman  bringing  a  wet  sheet  to  an  unwill- 
ing patient  had  served  as  a  model.  Oddly 
enough,  the  grave  of  John  Bushby,  an  attorney 
oft  lampooned  in  Burns's  verse,  lies  but  a  few 
feet  from  that  of  the  poet. 

Our  ramble  along  the  wimpling  Nith  lies  for 
the  most  part  in  a  second  Burnsland,  so  closely 
is  it  associated  with  his  personality  and  poetry. 
The  beauties  of  the  stream  itself  are  celebrated 
in  half  a  score  of  his  songs.  Every  seat  and 
scene  are  sung  in  his  verse ;  every  neighborhood 
and  almost  every  house  preserve  some  priceless 
relic  or  some  touching  reminiscence  of  the 
ploughman-bard.  A  short  way  above  Dumfries 
we  come  to  the  picturesque  ruin  of  Lincluden 
Abbey,  at  the  meeting  of  the  waters  of  Cluden 
and  Nith.  The  crumbling  walls  are  enshrouded 
in  ivy  and  surrounded  by  giant  trees,  among 
which  Burns  loved  to  loiter.  His  "  Evening 
View"  and  "  Vision"  commemorate  this  ruin, 
and  the  poem  **  Lincluden"  was  written  here. 
In  a  tasteful  cottage  not  far  from  the  Abbey 
sojourned  the  Mrs.  Goldie  who  communicated 
to  Scott  the  incidents  which  he  wrought  into 
his  "  Heart  of  Mid-Lothian,"  and  it  was  in  the 
little  kitchen  of  this  cottage  that  the  lady  talked 

i66 


Jeanie  Deans — Carlyle's  Craigenputtock 

with  Helen  Walker,  the  original  Jeanie  Deans. 
In  a  poor  little  low-eaved  dwelling,  a  mile  or 
two  up  the  valley,  that  heroine  lived,  keeping  a 
dame's  school  and  rearing  chickens ;  and  our 
course  along  the  tuneful  stream  brings  us  to  the 
ancient  and  sequestered  kirk-yard  of  Irongray, 
where,  among  the  grass-grown  graves  of  the 
Covenanters,  her  ashes  repose  beneath  a  tomb- 
stone erected  by  Scott  himself  and  marked  by 
an  inscription  from  his  hand:  "Respect  the 
Grave  of  Poverty  when  associated  with  love  of 
Truth  and  dear  AiFection."  Farther  in  this 
lovely  region  we  come  to  ancient  Dunscore  and 
the  monument  of  Scott's  "Old  Mortality;"  and 
beyond  Moniaive  we  find,  near  the  source  of 
the  Cairn,  Craigenputtock — the  abode  where 
**  Thomas  the  Thunderer  prepared  his  bolts" 
before  he  removed  to  London.  This  dreary 
place,  "  the  loneliest  in  Britain,"  had  been  the 
abode  of  many  generations  of  Mrs.  Carlyle's 
ancestors, — among  whom  were  "  several  black- 
guards but  not  one  blockhead," — and  Carlyle 
rebuilt  and  furnished  the  house  here  to  which 
he  brought  the  bride  he  had  wedded  after  his 
repulsion  by  his  fair  Rose-goddess,  the  Blumine 
of  his  *'  Romance."  It  is  a  severely  plain  and 
substantial  two-storied  structure  of  stone  with 
steep  gables.  The  entrance  is  under  a  little 
porch  in  the  middle  of  the  front ;  on  either  side 

167 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

is  a  single  window,  with  another  above  it  in  the 
second  story.  There  are  comfortable  and  com- 
modious rooms  at  each  side  of  the  entrance,  and 
a  large  kitchen  is  joined  at  the  back.  Carlyle's 
study,  a  rather  sombre  apartment,  with  a  dispirit- 
ing outlook,  is  at  the  left ;  a  fireplace  which  the 
sage  especially  loved  is  in  one  wall,  his  writing- 
table  stood  near  it,  and  here  he  sat  and  clothed 
in  virile  diction  the  brilliant  thoughts  which  had 
come  to  him  as  he  paced  among  his  trees  or 
loitered  on  the  near  hill-tops.  The  dining-room 
and  parlor  are  on  the  other  side,  looking  out 
upon  wild  and  gloomy  crags.  Mrs.  Carlyle's 
pen  long  ago  introduced  us  to  this  interior,  and, 
although  all  her  furniture,  except  perhaps  the 
kitchen  "  dresser,"  has  been  removed,  we  recog- 
nize the  household  nooks  she  has  mentioned. 
The  kitchen,  which  was  the  scene  of  her  tear- 
fv\  housekeeping  trials,  seems  most  familiar; 
its  chimney  retains  its  abominable  habits,  but 
a  recent  incumbent,  instead  of  crying  as  did 
Mrs.  Carlyle,  declared  the  "  chimla  made  her 
feel  like  sweerin',"  Great  ash-trees,  which  were 
old  when  the  sage  dwelt  beneath  them,  overtop  the 
house;  many  beautiful  flowers — some  survivors  of 
those  planted  by  Carlyle  and  his  wife — bloom  in 
the  yard.  In  front  a  wide  field  slopes  away  to 
a  tributary  of  the  Cairn,  but  sombre  moorland 
hills  rise  at  the  back  and  cluster  close  about  the 

i68 


Carlyle's  Craigenputtock 

house  on  either  side,  imparting  to  the  place  an 
indescribably  depressing  aspect :  as  we  contem- 
plate the  desolate  savagery  of  this  wilderness, 
we  can  understand  why  one  of  Carlyle's  prede- 
cessors here  killed  himself  and  others  "  took  to 
drink." 

The  bare  summit  behind  the  house  overlooks 
Carlyle's  estate  of  a  thousand  acres  and,  beyond 
it,  an  expanse  of  bleak  hills  and  black  morasses. 
From  the  craggy  brow  on  the  left,  the  spot 
where  Carlyle  and  Emerson  sat  and  talked  of  the 
immortality  of  the  soul,  we  see  Dunscore  and  a 
superb  vista  of  the  valley  towards  Dumfries  and 
the  Wordsworth  country.  The  isolation  of  this 
place — so  complete  that  at  one  time  not  even  a 
beggar  came  here  for  three  months — was  an 
advantage  to  Carlyle  at  this  period.  He  speaks 
of  it  as  a  place  of  plain  living  and  high 
thinking :  life  here  appeared  to  him  "  an  hum- 
ble russet-coated  epic,"  and  long  afterward  he 
referred  to  the  years  of  their  stay  in  this  waste 
as  being  "  perhaps  the  happiest  of  their  lives." 
This  expresses  his  own  feeling  rather  than  that 
of  his  wife,  whose  discontent  finds  expression  in 
many  ways,  notably  in  her  poem  "  To  a 
Swallow."  Carlyle  produced  here  some  of  his 
best  work,  including  the  matchless  **  Sartor 
Resartus,"  the  essay  on  Burns,  and  several 
scintillant  articles  for  the  various  reviews  which 

169 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

denoted  the  rise  of  a  new  star  of  genius ;  but 
the  period  of  his  stay  here  was  essentially  one 
of  study  and  thought,  and,  plenteous  as  it  was  in 
production,  it  was  more  prolific  in  preparation 
for  the  great  work  he  had  to  do.  To  Carlyle 
in  this  solitude  Jeffrey  was  a  visitor,  as  well  as 
"  Christopher  North,"  Hazlitt,  and  Edward 
Irving :  hither,  **  like  an  angel  from  heaven," 
came  Emerson  to  greet  the  new  genius  on  the 
threshold  of  its  career  and  to  enjoy  the  "  quiet 
night  of  clear,  fine  talk."  Carlyle  bequeathed 
this  estate  to  the  University  of  Edinburgh. 

Another  day,  our  ramble  follows  the  wind- 
ing Nith  northward  from  Lincluden.  As  we 
proceed,  the  lovely  and  opulent  dale,  once  the 
scene  of  clannish  strife,  presents  an  appearance 
of  peaceful  beauty,  pervaded  everywhere  with 
the  sentiment  of  Burns.  In  one  enchanting 
spot  the  stream  circles  about  the  grounds  of 
ancient  Friars  Carse,  now  a  tasteful  and  pretty 
seat.  It  was  erstwhile  the  residence  of  Burns's 
friend  Riddel,  to  which  the  poet  was  warmly 
welcomed  :  here  he  composed  the  poem  "  Thou 
whom  Chance  may  hither  lead,"  and  here  he 
presided  at  the  famous  drinking-match  which  he 
told  to  future  ages  in  "  The  Whistle."  It  is 
noteworthy  that  the  first  Scotch  winner  of  the 
Whistle  was  father  of  Annie  Laurie  of  the  popu- 
lar song,  and  that  the  contest  here  was  between 

170 


Friars  Carse — Burns's  Ellisland 

two  of  her  grandnephews  and  her  grandson, — 
the  latter  being  victorious.  Burns  celebrated 
his  friend  of  this  old  hermitage  in  seven  of  his 
poems ;  and  the  present  proprietor  carefully 
cherishes  the  window^  upon  whose  pane  the 
bard  inscribed  *'  Lines  written  in  Friars  Carse." 
A  little  way  beyond  lies  Druidical  Holywood, 
where  once  dwelt  the  author  of  **  De  Sphsera," 
and  next  we  find  the  Nith  curving  among  the 
acres  which  Burns  tilled  in  his  happiest  years, 
at  Ellisland.  Embowered  in  roses  and  perched 
upon  an  eminence  overhanging  the  stream  is  the 
plain  little  dwelling  which  he  erected  with  his 
own  hands  for  the  reception  of  his  bonnie  Jean. 
It  is  little  changed  since  the  time  he  lived  under 
its  lowly  roof.  We  think  the  rooms  dingy  and 
bare,  but  they  are  better  than  those  of  his  abode 
at  Alloway  and  Mossgiel,  much  better  than  those 
in  which  he  died  at  Dumfries.  In  the  largest 
of  the  apartments,  by  a  window  which  looks 
down  the  dreamful  valley.  Burns  had  a  rude 
table,  and  here  he  penned  some  of  the  most 
touchingly  beautiful  poetry  of  our  language, — 
poems  which  he  had  pondered  as  he  worked  or 
walked  afield.  Adjoining  the  house  is  the  yard 
where  he  produced  the  exquisite  lines  "  To 
Mary  in  Heaven ;"  in  this  near-by  field  he  met 
*'  The  Wounded  Hare"  of  his  verse  ;  in  yonder 
path  along  the  murmuring  Nith  he  composed  the 

171 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

immortal  "  Tam  O'Shanter,"  laughing  aloud  the 
while  at  the  pictures  his  fancy  conjured  ;  and  all 
about  us  are  reminders  of  the  bard  and  of  the 
idyllic  life  which  here  inspired  his  muse :  it 
would  repay  a  longer  journey  to  see  the  spot 
where  the  one  song  "John  Anderson,  my  Jo" 
was  pondered  and  written. 

A  further  jaunt  amid  varied  beauties  of  wood- 
land shade  and  meadow  sunshine,  of  gentle  dale 
and  savage  scaur,  brings  us  past  historic  Close- 
burn  to  the  neighborhood  of  Thornhill.  Here 
at  the  Buccleuch  Arms  the  illegitimate  daughter 
of  Burns  was  for  thirty  years  a  servant,  and 
boasted  of  having  had  a  chat  with  Scott  among 
the  burnished  utensils  of  her  kitchen.  Two 
miles  eastward  Scott  found  the  Balfour's  Cave 
and  Leap  described  in  "  Old  Mortality."  Mid- 
dle Nithsdale  expands  into  a  broad  valley,  com- 
manded by  lofty  Queensberry  and  lower  green 
hills  and  diversified  with  upland  brae,  shadowy 
copse,  sunny  mead,  and  opulent  plantation.  This 
lovely  region,  dotted  with  pretty  hamlets,  em- 
bowered villas,  and  moss-grown  ruins,  and  teem- 
ing with  the  charming  associations  of  history  and 
sentiment,  holds  for  us  a  crowning  interest  which 
has  drawn  our  steps  into  its  romantic  haunts :  it 
was  the  birthplace  and  life-long  home  of  Annie 
Laurie.  On  the  right  of  the  Nith,  among  the 
bonnie  braes  of  the  song,  we  find  the  ancient 

172 


Annie  Laurie — Early  Home 

manor-house  of  Maxwekon,  where  the  heroine 
was  born.  The  first  of  her  race  to  reside  here 
was  her  great-grandfather,  who  in  1611  built 
additions  to  the  old  tower  already  existing. 
The  marriage-stone  of  Annie  Laurie's  grand- 
parents, John  Laurie  and  Agnes  Grierson,  is 
set  in  the  massive  walls  and  graven  with  their 
initials,  crest,  and  date.  This  Agnes  was 
daughter  of  the  bloody  persecutor  who  figures  in 
**  Redgauntlet,"  and  whose  ashes  lie  in  Dunscore 
kirk-yard,  not  far  distant.  Another  stone  in  the 
Maxwelton  house  commemorates  the  marriage 
of  Robert  Laurie  and  Jean  Riddel,  the  parents 
of  the  heroine  of  the  song, — this  Robert  being 
the  champion  of  Bacchus  who  won  the  Whistle 
from  the  noble  Danish  toper.  In  this  ancient 
abode,  according  to  a  record  made  by  her  father, 
**At  the  pleasure  of  the  Almighty  God,  my 
daughter  Anna  Laurie  was  born  upon  the  i6th 
day  of  Deer.,  1682  years,  about  six  o'clock 
in  the  morning  ;"  here  the  bonnie  maiden  grew 
to  womanhood  ;  here  occurred  the  episode  to 
which  the  world  is  indebted  for  the  sweet  song  ; 
from  here  she  married  and  went  to  her  future 
home,  but  a  few  miles  away.  In  the  last  cen- 
tury much  of  the  venerable  edifice  was  destroyed, 
but  the  older  portion,  which  had  been  part  of  a 
stronghold  in  the  time  of  the  border  wars,  remains 
intact  since  Annie  dwelt  within.     This  part  is 

173 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

still  called  The  Tower,  and  consists  of  a  large 
rectangular  structure,  with  a  ponderous  semi- 
circular fabric  abutting  it  at  one  end,  its  fortress- 
like walls  being  five  feet  in  thickness  and  clothed 
by  a  luxuriant  growth  of  ivy.  Newer  portions 
have  been  added  in  varying  styles,  and  the  man- 
sion is  now  an  elegant  and  substantial  seat.  All 
about  it  lie  terraced  lawns,  with  parterres  of 
flowers,  noble  trees,  and  banks  of  shrubbery : 
lovely  grounds  slope  away  from  the  house  and 
command  an  enchanting  view  which  must  often 
have  delighted  the  vision  of  the  fair  Annie. 
Her  boudoir  is  in  the  second  story  of  The 
Tower ;  it  is  a  corner  room,  forming  now  an 
alcove  of  the  drawing-room  ;  it  has  a  vaulted 
ceiling  of  stone,  and  its  windows,  pierced  in  the 
ponderous  walls,  look  out  through  the  ivy  and 
across  an  expanse  of  sward,  flower,  and  foliage 
to  the  wooded  braes  where  she  kept  tryst  with 
her  lover.  Among  the  treasures  of  the  old 
house  is  a  portrait  of  the  bonnie  heroine  which 
shows  her  as  an  impressively  beautiful  woman, 
of  lissome  figure,  large  and  tender  eyes,  long 
oval  face  with  Grecian  features,  wide  forehead 
framed  by  a  profusion  of  dark-brown  hair."  Her 
hands,  like  her  "  fairy  feet,"  were  of  exceptional 
smallness  and  beauty.  The  present  owner  of 
Maxwelton,  to  whom  the  writer  is  indebted  for 
many   courtesies,   is   Sir   Emilius  Laurie ;  from 

174 


Annie  Laurie  and  her  Lover 

him  and'  from  the  lineal  descendants  of  the 
widely-sung  Annie  who  still  inhabit  Nithsdale 
are  derived  the  materials  for  this  account  of  that 
winsome  lady.  The  lover  who  immortalized 
her  was  William  Douglas  of  Fingland,  and  she 
requited  him  by  breaking  **  her  promise  true" 
and  marrying  another  man.  Douglas  is  said  to 
have  been  the  hero  of  the  song  "  Willie  was  a 
Wanton  Wag  ;"  he  was  one  of  the  best  swords- 
men of  his  time,  and  his  personal  qualities 
gained  him  the  patronage  of  the  Queensberry 
family  and  secured  him  social  advantages  to  which 
his  lower  rank  and  poverty  constituted  no  claim. 
He  and  Annie  met  at  an  Edinburgh  ball,  and 
seem  to  have  promptly  become  enamoured  of  each 
other.  To  separate  them.  Sir  Robert  quickly 
carried  his  family  back  to  Nithsdale,  but  Douglas 
as  quickly  followed,  and  lurked  in  the  vicinage 
for  some  months,  clandestinely  meeting  his  love 
among  "  Maxwelton's  bonnie  braes."  Here  the 
pair  plighted  troth,  and  when  Douglas  returned 
to  Edinburgh,  to  assist  in  a  projected  Stuart  up- 
rising, he  took  with  him  the  promise  which  he 
celebrated  in  the  tender  melody.  The  song  was 
published  in  an  Edinburgh  paper  and  attracted 
much  notice.  Douglas's  devotion  to  the  Jacob- 
ites cost  him  his  sweetheart ;  his  political  in- 
trigues being  suspected,  he  was  forced  to  fly  the 
country,  and  when,  after  some  years  passed  in 

175 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

France,  he  secured  pardon  and  returned,  she 
was  the  wife  of  another.  After  giving  "  her 
promise  true"  to  some  other  lovers,  she  married 
in  1709  Alexander  Fergusson,  a  neighboring 
laird,  who  could  not  write  poetry  but  had 
*•  muckle  siller  an'  Ian*  "  and  a  genealogy  as  long 
as  Leviticus.  Douglas  and  Annie  never  met 
again,  and  she  makes  but  a  single  reference  to 
him  in  her  letters  :  being  told  of  his  return,  she 
wrote  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Riddel,  grandmother 
of  Burns's  friend,  *'  I  trust  he  has  forsaken  his 
treasonable  opinions  and  is  content." 

A  stroll  of  but  a  few  miles  along  a  delightful 
way,  fanned  by  the  sweet  summer  winds,  brings 
us  to  Craigdarrock,  Annie  Laurie's  home  for 
more  than  half  a  century.  It  is  a  spacious  and 
handsome  edifice  of  three  stories,  with  dormer- 
windows  in  the  hip-roof;  a  conservatory  is 
connected  at  one  end,  bow-windows  project 
from  either  side,  and  clambering  vines  cover  the 
walls  of  the  lower  stories. 

It  is  beautifully  placed  in  a  vale  overlooking  the 
winding  stream,  with  the  rugged  Craigdarrock 
looming  steeply  in  the  background.  Most  of 
the  mansion  was  built  under  the  direction  of 
Annie  Laurie,  and  the  gardens  were  laid  out  by 
her  in  their  formal  style :  a  delightful  walk 
beneath  the  trees  on  the  margin  of  the  water  was 
her  favorite  resort,  and  is  still  known  by  her 

176 


Home  of   Annie   Laurie 


A  hiiizij.iy  i^ilgrimage 


France,   he  seo 
was  the  wi! 
promise  true 
in    1709   Ai 
laird,    w'^ 
*' mucklc        .    ... 


1  and  returned,  she 
r.  After  giving  "her 
•rher  lovers,  she  married 
i  crgusson,  a  neighboring 
K)t  write  poetry  but  had 
an'  "  and  a  genealogy  as  long 
as  Leviticus,  Douglas  and  Annie  never  met 
again,  and  she  makes  but  a  single  reference  to 
him  in  her  letters  ;  being  told  of  his  return,  she 
wrote  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Riddel,  grandmother 
of  Burns's  friend,  **  I  trust  jie  has  forsaken  his 
treasonable  opinions  and  is  content." 


'...11 


■■]:' 


,gS 

or 

luus  and 

^-,  with  dormer- 

<i    conservatory    is 

"     '   ■-    ■      ,    DOw-windows    project 

'       '(    and  clambenng  vines  cover  the 

.-pr  storie?. 
■  ifully  placed  in  a  vale  overlooking  the 
cam,  with  the  rugged  Craigdarrock 
eply  in  the  background.  Most  of 
.n  was  built  under  the  direction  of 
Annie  L,i;  rie,  and  the  gardens  were  laid  out  by 
her  in  t  -jr  formal  style :  a  delightful  walk 
beneath  r:  -rces  on  the  margin  of  the  water  was 
her  favv.  jrt,  and  is  still  known  by  her 

17u 


VVindi 

conne*. ;. ., 
from  eiih- 
walls  of 

It  is  bf ;' 
winding 
looming 
the  mar 


Her  Later  Home — Burial-place 

name.  Within  the  spacious  rooms  are  preserved 
many  of  her  belongings  :  curious  furniture  and 
hangings,  quaint  fineries  of  dress,  her  porcelain 
snuff-box,  her  will,  a  package  of  her  letters 
written  in  the  prim  fashion  of  her  time  and 
signed  '*  Anna."  Through  these  epistles  we 
look  in  vain  for  indications  of  the  wit  and  genius 
which  one  naturally  attributes  to  the  possessor 
of  the  bright  face  which  inspired  a  deathless 
song.  In  this  house  she  lived  happily  with  her 
husband,  and  was  at  once  the  Lady  Bountiful  and 
the  matchmaker-in-ordinary  for  the  whole 
countryside ;  here  she  died,  aged  seventy-nine. 
This  estate  has  been  handed  down  from  father 
to  son  for  fifteen  generations,  the  present  urbane 
laird.  Captain  Cutlar  Fergusson,  being  a  great- 
great-grandson  of  Annie  Laurie  and  grandson 
of  the  hero  of  Burns's  "  Whistle."  This  famous 
trophy — a  plain  object  in  dark  wood — is  pre- 
served here  at  Craigdarrock,  and  has  not  been 
challenged  for  since  the  bout  which  Burns 
witnessed. 

In  the  now  ruined  church  of  Glencairn, 
hardly  a  mile  from  her  birthplace,  and  not  far 
from  her  later  home,  Annie  Laurie  worshipped, 
and  in  its  yard,  which  has  been  a  place  of  burial 
for  a  thousand  years,  she  was  laid  with  her  hus- 
band, among  the  many  generations  of  his  kindred, 
by  the  gable-end  of  the  ancient  church.     Her 

M  177 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

sepulchre  was  not  marked,  and  it  is  to  be  feared 
the  bones  of  the  erst  beauteous  lady  have  been 
more  than  once  disturbed  in  excavating  for  later 
interments  in  the  crowded  plot.  From  the 
summit  of  Craigdarrock  we  look  upon  the  wilder 
beauty  of  the  upper  Nith,  a  region  of  moorland 
hills  and  dusky  glens,  where  we  may  find  the 
birthplace  of  ♦'  the  Admirable  Crichton,"  and 
beyond  it  the  bleak  domain  where  the  poet 
Allan  Ramsay  first  saw  the  light.  Beyond  this, 
again,  the  sweet  Afton  "  flows  amang  its  green 
braes,"  and  we  come  to  the  Ayrshire  shrines  of 
Burns. 

A  few  miles  westward  from  Craigdarrock,  and 
not  so  far  from  Carlyle's  lonely  den,  is  Fingland 
farm,  the  birthplace  and  home  of  Annie's  poet- 
lover.  It  lies  among  sterile  hills  in  the  wild 
Glenkens  of  ancient  Galloway,  near  the  source 
of  Ken  water.  From  neighboring  elevations 
we  see  Craigenputtock  and  the  swelling  Sol- 
way,  and  westward  we  look,  across  the  dark 
fens  and  heathery  hills  of  the  region  "  blest 
with  the  smell  of  bog-myrtle  and  peat,"  al- 
most to  the  Irish  Sea.  In  this  region  Crockett 
was  reared,  and  he  pictures  it  in  his  charm- 
ing tales  "The  Raiders"  and  "  The  Lilac  Sun- 
bonnet." 

No  trace  of  the  peel-tower  in  which  Douglas 
dwelt  remains,  but  we  know  that  it  stood  within 

178 


Annie  Laurie — The  Singer  and  the  Song 

an  enclosing  wall  twenty  yards  square  and  one 
yard  in  thickness.  The  tower  had  projecting 
battlements ;  its  apartments,  placed  above  each 
other,  were  reached  by  a  narrow,  easily  defended 
stair.  In  such  a  home  and  amid  this  most  dis- 
mal environment  Douglas  grew  to  manhood,  his 
poetic  power  unsuspected  until  it  was  called 
forth  by  the  love  and  beauty  of  Annie  Laurie. 
Later  he  wrote  many  poems,  but  diligent  inquiry 
among  the  families  of  Buccleuch  and  Queens- 
berry  shows  that  few  of  his  productions  are  now 
extant  save  the  famous  love-song.  It  is  notable 
that  he  did  not  "  lay  doun  his  head  and  die" 
for  the  faithless  Annie ;  instead,  he  made  a  run- 
away marriage  with  Elizabeth  Clerk,  of  Glen- 
borg,  in  his  native  Galloway,  subsided  into 
prosy  country  life,  and  reared  a  family  of  six 
children,  of  whom  one,  Archibald,  rose  to  the 
rank  of  lieutenant-general  in  Brittany. 

Douglas's  song  was  revised  by  Lady  Scott, 
sister  of  the  late  Duke  of  Buccleuch,  and  pub- 
lished by  her  for  the  benefit  of  the  widows  and 
orphans  made  by  the  Crimean  War.  Lines  of 
the  original,  for  which  the  writer  is  indebted  to 
a  descendant  of  Annie  Laurie,  are  hereto  ap- 
pended, that  the  reader  may  appreciate  how  much 
of  the  tender  beauty  of  the  popular  version  of 
the  song  is  attributable  to  the  poetic  talent  of 
Lady  Scott. 

i!79 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

*•  Maxwelton  banks  are  bonnie, 

Where  early  fa's  the  dew, 
Where  me  and  Annie  Laurie 

Made  up  the  promise  true  : 
Made  up  the  promise  true, 

And  ne'er  forget  will  I ; 
And  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie 

I'd  lay  doun  my  head  and  die. 

*♦  She's  backit  like  a  peacock  ; 

She's  breastit  like  a  swan  ; 
She's  jimp  about  the  middle; 

Her  waist  ye  weel  may  span  : 
Her  waist  ye  weel  may  span, — 

She  has  a  rolling  eye  ; 
And  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie 

I'd  lay  doun  my  head  and  die." 


iSo 


A   NIECE   OF  ROBERT   BURNS 

Her  Burnsland  Cottage-Reminiscences  of  Burns-Relics-Por- 
traits—Letters—Recitations-Account of  his  Death-Memo- 
ries of  his  Home— Of  Bonnie  yean-Other  Heroines. 

TN  the  course  of  a  summer  ramble  in  Burns- 
land  we  had  sought  out  the  homes,  the 
haunts,  the  tomb  of  the  ploughman  poet,  and  had 
bent  at  many  a  shrine  hallowed  by  his  memory 
or  his  song.  From  the  cottage  of  "  Bonnie 
Jean"  and  the  tomb  of"  Holy  Willie,"  the  field 
of  the  "  Mountain  Daisy"  and  the  church  of  the 
"  Holy  Fair,"  the  birthplace  of  "  Highland 
Mary"  and  the  grave  of  "  Mary  Morison,"  we 
came  to  the  shrines  of  auld  Ayr,  beside  the  sea. 
Here  we  find  the  "  Twa  Brigs"  of  his  poem  ;  the 
graves  of  the  ministers  satirized  in  "  The  Kirk's 
Alarm  ;"  the  old  inn  of  "  Tam  O'Shanter,"  and 
the  very  room,  with  its  ingle,  where  Tam  and 
Souter  Johnny  "  got  fou  thegither,"  and  where 
we  may  sip  the  nappy  from  the  wooden  caup 
which  Tam  often  drained.  From  Ayr  a  delight- 
ful stroll  along  the  highway  where  Tam  made 
his  memorable  ride,  and  where  William  Burns 
carried  the  howdie  upon  the  pillion  behind  him 
on  another  stormy  winter's  night  when  the  poet 
was  born,  brought  us  to  the  hamlet  of  Alloway 
and  the  place  of  Burns's  early  life.  Here  are  the 
auld  clay  biggin,  with  its  rude  stone  floor  and 

i8i 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

roof  of  thatch,  erected  by  the  unskilled  hands 
of  his  father,  where  the  poet  first  saw  the  light, 
and  where  he  laid  the  scene  of  the  immortal 
"  Cotter's  Saturday  Night ;"  the  fields  where 
his  young  hands  toiled  to  aid  his  burdened  sire ; 
the  kirk-yard  where  his  kindred  lie  buried,  some 
of  their  epitaphs  written  by  him  ;  the  "  auld 
haunted  kirk," — where  Tam  interrupted  the 
witches'  dance, — unknown  save  for  the  genius  of 
the  lad  born  by  its  roofless  walls ;  the  Burns 
monument,  with  its  priceless  relics  ;  the  ivy- 
grown  bridge,  four  centuries  old,  whose  arch 
spans  the  songful  stream  and  across  which  Tam 
galloped  in  such  sore  peril,  and  its  "  key-stane," 
where  Meg  lost  "  her  ain  gray  tail"  to  Nannie, 
fleetest  of  the  pursuers ;  the  enchanting  "  banks 
and  braes  of  bonnie  Doon,"  where  Burns  wan- 
dered a  brown-eyed  boy,  and  later  found  the  in- 
spiration of  many  of  his  exquisite  strains.  We 
have  known  few  scenes  more  lovely  than  this 
in  which  his  young  life  was  passed :  long  and 
delightful  is  our  lingering  here,  for  interwoven 
with  the  many  natural  beauties  are  winsome 
memories  of  the  bard  whose  spirit  and  genius 
pervade  all  the  scene. 

Returning  thence  past  the  "  thorn  aboon  the 
well"  (the  well  is  closed  now)  and  the  "  meikle- 
stane"  to  the  ancient  ford  "  where  in  the  snaw 
the  chapman  smoor'd,"  we  made  a  detour  south- 

182 


Miss  Burns  Begg — Bridgeside  Cot 

ward,  and  came  by  a  pleasant  way — having  in 
view  on  the  right  the  picturesque  ruin  of  Greenan 
Castle  upon  a  clifF  overhanging  the  sea — to 
Bridgeside  cottage,  the  home  of  Miss  Isabella 
Burns  Begg,  niece  of  the  poet  and  long  his  only 
surviving  near  relative.  We  found  a  cottage  of 
stone,  from  whose  thatched  roof  a  dormer-win- 
dow, brilliant  with  flowers,  peeped  out  through 
the  foliage  which  half  concealed  the  tiny  home- 
let.  The  trimmest  of  little  maids  admitted  us 
at  the  gate  and  led  along  a  path  bordered  with 
flowers  to  the  cottage  door,  where  stood  Miss 
Begg  beaming  a  welcome  upon  the  pilgrims 
from  America.  We  were  ushered  into  a  pret- 
tily furnished  little  room,  upon  whose  walls 
hung  a  portrait  of  Burns,  one  of  his  sister  Mrs. 
Begg,  and  some  framed  autograph  letters  of  the 
bard,  which  the  niece  "  knew  by  heart."  She 
was  the  daughter  and  namesake  of  Burns's  young- 
est and  favorite  sister,  who  married  John  Begg. 
We  found  her  a  singularly  active  and  vivacious 
old  lady,  cheery  and  intelligent,  and  more  than 
pleased  to  have  secured  appreciative  auditors  for 
her  reminiscences  of  her  gifted  uncle.  She  was 
of  slender  habit,  had  a  bright  and  winning  face, 
soft  gray  hair  partially  concealed  by  a  cap,  and 
when  she  was  seated  beneath  the  Burns  por- 
trait we  could  see  that  her  large  dark  eyes — 
now  sparkling  with  merriment   or  misty  with 

i8S 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

emotion,  and  again  literally  glowing  with  feeling 
— were  like  those  on  the  canvas.  Among  the 
treasures  of  this  room  was  a  worn  copy  of 
Thomson's  "  Seasons,"  a  favorite  book  of 
Burns,  which  he  had  freely  annotated ;  his 
name  in  it  is  written  "  Burnes,"  as  the  family 
spelled  it  down  to  the  publication  of  the  bard's 
first  volume.  In  the  course  of  a  long  and  pleas- 
ant chat  we  learned  that  Miss  Begg  had  lived 
many  years  in  the  cottage,  first  with  her  mother 
and  later  with  her  sister  Agnes, — named  for 
Burns's  mother, — who  died  before  our  visit  and 
was  laid  beside  her  parents  and  the  father  of 
Burns  in  the  kirk-yard  of  auld  Alloway,  where 
Miss  Begg  expected  "  soom  day,  please  God  an 
it  be  soon,"  to  go  to  await  the  resurrection, 
thinking  it  an  "  ill  hap"  that  she  survived  her 
sister.  She  innocently  inquired  if  we  *'  kenned 
her  nephew  Robert  in  America,"  and  then  ex- 
plained that  he  and  a  niece  of  hers  had  formerly 
lived  with  her,  but  she  had  discovered  that  **  they 
were  sweetheartin'  and  wantin'  to  marry,  which 
she  wouldna  allow,  so  they  went  to  America," 
leaving  her  alone  with  her  handmaiden.  Most 
of  her  visitors  had  been  Americans.  She  re- 
membered the  visits  of  Hawthorne,  Grant,  Stan- 
ley, and  Helen  Hunt  Jackson, — the  last  with 
greatest  pleasure, — and  thought  that  "  Americans 
care  most  about  Burns."    She  mentioned  the  visit 

184 


Recitations — Bonnie  Jean 

of  a  Virginian  maid,  who  by  rapturous    praise 
of  the  uncle  completely  won  the   heart  of  the 
niece.      The  fair  enthusiast  had  most  of  Burns's 
poems   at   her   tongue's  end,  but   insisted  upon 
having    them    repeated    by  Miss  Begg,   and    at 
parting    exclaimed,    after   much    kissing,    "  Oh, 
but  I  always  pray  God  that  when   he  takes  me 
to  heaven  he  will    give   me  the  place  next  to 
Burns."     Apparently,  Robin  still  has  power  to 
disturb  the  peace  of  "  the  lasses  O."     Yet  we 
can   well   excuse  the   effusiveness  of  our   com- 
patriot :  to  have  listened  to  the  old  lady  as  she 
sat  under  his   portrait,   her    eyes  twinkling   or 
softening  like  his  own,  her  voice  thrilling  with 
sympathetic  feeling  as  she  repeated  in  his  own 
sweet  dialect  the  tender  stanzas,  "  But  pleasures 
are  like  poppies  spread,"  "  My  Mary  !  dear  de- 
parted shade !"   and    "  Oh,   happy   love,  when 
love  like  this  is  found,"  and  others  of  like  pathos 
and   beauty,  is  a   lapture   not   to  be  forgotten. 
She  spoke  quickly,  and  the  Scottish  accent  kept 
one's  ears  on  the  alert,  but  it  rendered  the  lines 
doubly  effective  and  melodious.     Many  of  the 
poems  were  inspired  by  special  events  of  which 
Miss   Begg    had  knowledge    from    her  mother, 
which   she   recalled  with   evident   relish.     She 
distinctly  remembered  the  bard's  widow,  "  Bon- 
nie Jean,"  and    often  visited  her  in   the    poor 
home  where  he  died.     Jean  had  a  sunny  tem- 

i8s 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

per,  a  kind  heart,  a  handsome  figure,  a  fine  voice, 
and  lustrous  eyes,  but  her  brunette  face  was 
never  bonnie.  While  she  lacked  intellectual 
appreciation  of  his  genius,  she  was  proud  of  and 
idolized  him,  finding  ready  excuse  and  forgive- 
ness for  his  failings.  When  the  frail  "  Anna 
with  the  Gowden  Locks"  bore  him  an  illegiti- 
mate child,  Jean  cradled  it  with  her  own,  and 
loyally  averred  to  all  visitors,  "  It's  only  a  nee- 
bor's  bairn  I'm  bringin'  up."  ("Ay,  she  must 
'a'  lo'ed  him,"  was  Miss  Begg's  comment  on  this 
part  of  her  narrative.)  Jean  had  told  that  in  his 
last  years  the  poet  habitually  wore  a  blue  coat, 
with  nankeen  trousers  (when  the  weather  would 
allow),  and  his  coat-collar  was  so  high  that 
his  hat  turned  up  at  the  back.  Her  account  of 
the  manner  of  his  death  is  startling,  and  differs 
from  that  given  by  the  biographers.  He  lay 
apparently  asleep  when  "  sweet  Jessy" — to 
whom  his  last  poem  was  written — approached, 
and,  to  remind  him  of  his  medicine,  touched 
the  cup  to  his  lips ;  he  started,  drained  the  cup, 
then  sprang  headlong  to  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
threw  his  hands  forward  like  one  about  to  swim, 
and,  falling  on  his  face,  expired  with  a  groan. 
Jean  saw  him  for  the  last  time  on  the  evening 
before  his  funeral,  when  his  wasted  body  lay  in 
a  cheap  coffin  covered  with  flowers,  his  care- 
worn face  framed  by  the   wavy   masses  of  his 

i86 


Reminiscences — Burns'  Youth 

sable  hair,  then  sprinkled  with  gray.  At  his 
death  he  left  MSS.  in  the  garret  of  his  abode, 
which  were  scattered  and  lost  because  Jean  was 
unable  to  take  care  of  them, — a  loss  which  must 
ever  be  deplored. 

One  of  the  delights  of  Miss  Begg's  girlhood 
was  the  converse  of  Burns's  mother  concerning 
her  first-born  and  favorite  child,  the  poet,  a 
theme  of  which  she  never  tired.  Miss  Begg 
remembered  her  as  a  "chirk"  old  lady  with 
snapping  black  eyes  and  an  abundant  stock  of 
legends  and  ballads.  She  used  to  declare  that 
Bobbie  had  often  heard  her  sing  "  Auld  Lang 
Syne"  in  his  boyhood  ;  hence  it  would  appear 
that,  at  most,  he  only  revised  that  precious  old 
song.  Miss  Begg  more  than  once  heard  the 
mother  tell,  with  manifest  gusto,  this  incident 
of  their  residence  at  Lochlea.  Robert  was. al- 
ready inclined  to  be  wild,  and  between  visiting 
his  sweetheart  Ellison  Begbie — "  the  lass  of 
the  twa  sparkling,  roguish  een" — and  attend- 
ing the  Tarbolton  club  and  Masonic  lodge  was 
abroad  until  an  unseemly  hour  every  night,  and 
his  mother  or  Isabella  sat  up  to  let  him  in.  His 
anxious  sire,  the  priest-like  father  of  the  "  Cot- 
ter's Saturday  Night,"  determined  to  administer 
an  effectual  rebuke  to  the  son's  misconduct,  and 
one  night  startled  the  mother  by  announcing 
significantly  that  he   would  wait  to  admit  the 

187 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

lad.  She  lay  for  hours  (Robert  was  later  than 
ever  that  night),  dreading  the  encounter  between 
the  two,  till  she  heard  the  boy  whistling  "  Tib- 
bie Fowler"  as  he  approached.  Then  the  door 
opened  :  the  father  grimly  demanded  what  had 
kept  him  so  late ;  the  son,  for  reply,  gave  a 
comical  description  of  his  meeting  auld  Hornie 
on  the  way  home, — an  adventure  narrated  in 
the  "  Address  to  the  De'il," — and  next  the 
mother  heard  the  pair  seat  themselves  by  the 
fire,  where  for  two  hours  the  father  roared  with 
laughter  at  Robert's  ludicrous  account  of  the 
evening's  doings  at  the  club, — she,  meanwhile, 
nearly  choking  with  her  efforts  to  restrain  the 
laughter  which  might  remind  her  husband  of  his 
intended  reproof.  Thereafter  the  lad  stayed  out 
as  late  as  he  pleased  without  rebuke.  The 
niece  had  been  told  by  her  mother  that  Burns 
was  deeply  distressed  at  his  father's  death-bed 
by  the  old  man's  fears  for  the  future  of  his  way- 
ward son ;  and  when  his  father's  death  made 
Robert  the  head  of  the  family,  he  every  morn- 
ing led  the  household  in  "  the  most  beautiful 
prayers  ever  heard ;"  later,  at  Ellisland  and  else- 
where, he  continued  this  practice,  and  on  the 
Sabbath  instructed  them  in  the  Catechism  and 
Confession.  Mrs.  Begg's  most  pleasing  recol- 
lections of  her  brother  were  associated  with  the 
farm-life  at  Mossgiel,  where  he  so  far  gave  her 

i8g 


Mossglel — Recollections 

his  confidence  that  she  was  allowed  to  see  his 
poems  in  the  course  of  their  composition.  He 
would  ponder  his  stanzas  during  his  labors 
afield,  and  when  he  came  to  the  house  for  a 
meal  he  would  go  to  the  little  garret  where  he 
and  his  brother  Gilbert  slept  and  hastily  pen 
them  upon  a  table  which  stood  under  the  one 
little  window.  Here  Isabella  would  find  them, 
and,  after  repeated  perusals,  would  arrange  them 
in  the  drawer ;  and  so  it  passed  that  her  bright  eyes 
were  the  first,  besides  his  own,  to  see  *'  The  Twa 
Dogs,"  "  Winter's  Night,"  "  The  Bard's  Epi- 
taph," "The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,"  the 
satirical  poems,  and  most  of  the  productions  which 
were  published  in  his  Kilmarnock  volume.  His 
sister  testified  that  he  was  always  affectionate  to 
the  family,  and  that  after  his  removal  to  a  home 
of  his  own  he  invariably  brought  a  present  for 
each  when  he  revisited  the  farm,  the  present  for 
his  mother  being  always,  despite  his  poverty,  a 
costly  pound  of  tea.  Most  of  the  receipts  from 
his  publishers  were  given  to  the  family  at  Moss- 
giel.  Miss  Begg  intimated  that  Burns's  mother 
did  not  at  first  like  his  wife,  because  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  marriage,  but  Jean's  stanch 
devotion  to  her  husband  won  the  heart  of  the 
doting  mother,  and  they  became  warm  friends 
and  spent  much  time  together  after  Burns's 
death.     The  niece   believed   that   the  accounts 

189 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

of  his  intemperance  are  mostly  untrue.  Her 
mother,  who  was  twenty-five  years  old  at  the 
time  of  his  decease,  always  asserted  that  she 
**  never  saw  him  fou,"  and  believed  it  was  his 
antagonism  to  the  **  unco'  guid"  that  made  them 
ready  to  believe  and  circulate  any  idle  report  to 
his  discredit. 

Mrs.  Begg  saw  and  liked  "  Highland  Mary" 
at  the  house  of  Gavin  Hamilton,  and  knew  Miss 
Dunlop,  the  blooming  Keith  of  Burns's  "  New- 
Year  Day."  Another  of  his  heroines  the  niece 
had  herself  visited  with  her  mother;  this  was 
Mrs.  Jessy  Thompson,  nee  Lewars,  who  was  a 
ministering  angel  in  his  final  illness,  and  was  re- 
paid by  the  only  thing  he  could  bestow, — a  song 
of  exquisite  sweetness,  "  Here's  a  health  to  ane 
I  lo'e  dear."  Our  informant  had  seen  in  that 
lady's  hands  the  lines  beginning  "  Thine  be  the 
volumes,  Jessy  fair,"  which  the  poet  gave  her 
with  a  present  of  books  within  a  month  of  his 
death.  Many  other  reminiscences  related  by 
the  niece  are  to  be  found  in  the  biographies  of 
the  bard,  and  need  not  be  repeated.  The  let- 
ters which  hung  upon  her  walls  are  not  included 
in  any  published  collection.  She  assisted  us 
in  copying  the  following  to  Burns's  youngest 
brother : 


190 


A  Letter  of  Bums 


*•  IsLz,  Tuesday  Evening. 
**Dear  William,  —  In  my  last  I  recom- 
mended that  valuable  apothegm.  Learn  taciturn- 
ity. It  is  certain  that  nobody  can  know  our 
thoughts,  and  yet,  from  a  slight  observation  of 
mankind,  one  would  not  think  so.  What  mis- 
chiefs daily  arise  from  silly  garrulity  and  foolish 
confidence !  There  is  an  excellent  Scots  saying 
that  a  man's  mind  is  his  kingdom.  It  is  cer- 
tainly so,  but  how  few  can  govern  that  kingdom 
with  propriety  !  The  serious  mischiefs  in  Busi- 
ness which  this  Flux  of  language  occasions  do 
not  come  immediately  to  your  situation,  but  in 
another  point  of  view — the  dignity  of  man — 
now  is  the  time  that  will  make  or  mar.  Yours 
is  the  time  of  life  for  laying  in  habits.  You 
cannot  avoid  it,  tho'  you  will  choose,  and  these 
habits  will  stick  to  your  last  end.  At  after- 
periods,  even  at  so  little  advance  as  my  years, 
'tis  true  that  one  may  still  be  very  sharp-sighted 
to  one's  habitual  failings  and  weaknesses,  but  to 
eradicate  them,  or  even  to  amend  them,  is  quite 
a  different  matter.  Acquired  at  first  by  acci- 
dent, they  by-and-by  begin  to  be,  as  it  were,  a 
necessary  part  of  our  existence.  I  have  not 
time  for  more.  Whatever  you  read,  whatever 
you  hear  of  that  strange  creature  man,  look  into 
the  living  world  about  you,  look  to  yourself,  for 

191 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

the  evidences  of  the  fact  or  the  appJication  of 
the  doctrine.     I  am  ever  yours, 

**  Robert  Burns. 
**  Mr.  William  Burns,  Saddler,  Longtown." 

The  sentiment  and  style  of  this  epistle  are 
suggestive  of  the  stilted  conversations  of  Burns, 
recorded  in  Hugh  Miller's  "  Recollections." 
Miss  Begg  was  pleased  by  some  account  we  could 
give  her  of  American  Burns  monuments  and  fes- 
tivals ;  she  seemed  reluctant  to  have  us  leave, 
called  to  us  a  cheery  **  God  keep  ye  !"  when  we 
were  without  the  gate,  and  stood  looking  after 
us  until  the  intervening  foliage  hid  her  from  our 
sight.  As  we  walked  Ayr-ward,  while  the  sun 
was  setting  in  a  golden  haze  behind  the  hills  of 
Arran,  we  felt  that  we  had  been  very  near  to 
Burns  that  day, — had  almost  felt  the  thrill  of  his 
presence,  the  charm  of  his  voice,  and  had  in 
some  measure  made  a  personal  acquaintance  with 
him  which  would  evermore  move  us  to  a  ten- 
derer regard  for  the  man  and  a  truer  appreciation 
of  his  verse,  as  well  as   a  fuller  charity  for  his 

faults: 

We  know  in  part  what  he  has  done, 
God  knows  what  he  resisted. 

For  some  months  after  our  visit  to  Bridgeside, 
quaint  letters — one  of  them  containing  a  por- 
trait of  the  worthy  occupant  of  the  cottage — 

192 


Death  of  Burns's  Niece 

followed  us  thence  across  the  sea.  These  came 
at  increasing  intervals  and  then  stopped ;  the 
kindly  heart  of  the  niece  of  Burns  had  ceased  to 
beat  on  her  eightieth  birthday. 

A  recent  pilgrim  in  Burnsland  found  an  added 
line  on  the  gravestone  in  the  old  kirk-yard,  to 
tell  that  Isabella  Burns  Begg  rests  there  in 
eternal  peace.  At  Bridgeside,  her  once  cher- 
ished garden  is  a  waste  and  her  tiny  cottage  has 
wholly  disappeared.  "  So  do  things  pass  away 
like  a  tale  that  is  told." 


193 


HIGHLAND  MARY:  HER 
HOMES   AND   GRAVE 

Birthplace  —  Personal  Appearance  —  Relations  to  Burns  — 
Abodes  :  JlIaucAline,  Coilsjield,  etc. -Scenes  of  Courtship 
and  Parting  —  Mementos  —  Tomb  by  the  Clyde. 

'  I  *HERE  is  no  stronger  proof  of  the  transcend- 
■^  ing  power  of  the  genius  of  Burns  than  is 
found  in  the  fact  that,  by  a  bare  half  dozen  of 
his  stanzas,  an  humble  dairy  servant — else  un- 
heard of  outside  her  parish  and  forgotten  at  her 
death — is  immortalized  as  a  peeress  of  Petrarch's 
Laura  and  Dante's  Beatrice,  and  has  been  for  a 
century  loved  and  mourned  of  all  the  world. 
We  owe  much  of  our  tenderest  poesy  to  the 
heroines  whose  charms  have  attuned  the  fancy 
and  aroused  the  impassioned  muse  of  enamoured 
bards ;  readers  have  always  exhibited  a  natural 
avidity  to  realize  the  personality  of  the  beings 
who  inspired  the  tender  lays, — prompted  often 
by  mere  curiosity,  but  more  often  by  a  desire  to 
appreciate  the  tastes  and  motives  of  the  poets 
themselves.  How  little  is  known  of  Highland 
Mary,  the  most  famous  heroine  of  modern  song, 
is  shown  by  the  brief,  incoherent,  and  often  con- 
tradictory allusions  to  her  which  the  biographies 
of  the  ploughman-poet  contain.  This  paper, 
— prepared  during  a  sojourn  in  **  The  Land 
o'  Burns," — while  it  adds  a  little  to  our  meagre 

194 


Birthplace — Early  Home 

knowledge  of  Mary  Campbell,  aims  to  present 
consecutively  and  congruously  so  much  as  may 
now  be  known  of  her  brief  life,  her  relations  to 
the  bard,  and  her  sad,  heroic  death. 

She  first  saw  the  light  in  1764,  at  Ardrossan, 
on  the  coast,  fifteen  miles  northward  from  the 
*'  auld  town  of  Ayr."  Her  parentage  was  of  the 
humblest,  her  father  being  a  sailor  before  the 
mast,  and  the  poor  dwelling  which  sheltered  her 
was  in  no  way  superior  to  the  meanest  of  those 
we  find  to-day  on  the  narrow  streets  of  her  vil- 
lage. From  her  birthplace  we  see,  across  the 
Firth  of  Clyde,  the  beetling  mountains  of  the 
Highlands,  where  she  afterward  dwelt,  and 
southward  the  great  mass  of  Ailsa  Craig  loom- 
ing, a  gigantic  pyramid,  out  of  the  sea.  Mary 
was  named  for  her  aunt,  wife  of  Peter  McPher- 
son,  a  ship-carpenter  of  Greenock,  in  whose 
house  Mary  died.  In  her  infancy  her  family 
removed  to  the  vicinage  of  Dunoon,  on  the 
western  shore  of  the  Firth,  eight  miles  below 
Greenock,  leaving  the  oldest  daughter  at  Ar- 
drossan. Mary  grew  to  young  womanhood 
near  Dunoon,  then  returned  to  Ayrshire,  and 
found  occupation  at  Coilsfield,  near  Tarbolton, 
where  her  acquaintance  with  Burns  soon  began. 
He  told  a  lady  that  he  first  saw  Mary  while 
walking  in  the  woods  of  Coilsfield,  and  first 
spoke  with  her  at   a  rustic  merry-making,  and, 

^95 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

"  having  the  luck  to  win  her  regards  from  other 
suitors,"  they  speedily  became  intimate.  At  this 
period  of  life  Burns's  "  eternal  propensity  to  fall 
into  love"  was  unusually  active,  even  for  him,  and 
his  passion  for  Mary  (at  this  time)  was  one  of 
several  which  engaged  his  heart  in  the  interval 
between  the  reign  of  Ellison  Begbie — "  the  lass 
of  the  twa  sparkling,  roguish  een" — and  that  of 
"  Bonnie  Jean."  Mary  subsequently  became  a 
servant  in  the  house  of  Burns's  landlord,  Gavin 
Hamilton,  a  lawyer  of  Mauchline,  who  had 
early  recognized  the  genius  of  the  bard  and  ad- 
mitted him  to  an  intimate  friendship,  despite  his 
inferior  condition.  When  Hamilton  was  perse- 
cuted by  the  kirk.  Burns,  partly  out  of  sympa- 
thy with  him,  wrote  the  satires,  "  Holy  Willie's 
Prayer,"  "  The  Twa  Herds,"  and  "  The  Holy 
Fair,"  which  served  to  unite  the  friends  more 
closely,  and  brought  the  poet  often  to  the  house 
where  Mary  was  an  inmate.  This  house — a 
sombre  structure  of  stone,  little  more  preten- 
tious than  its  neighbors — we  found  on  the 
shabby  street  not  far  from  Armour's  cottage, 
the  church  of  "  The  Holy  Fair,"  and  **  Posie 
Nansie's"  inn,  where  the  "Jolly  Beggars"  used 
to  congregate.  Among  the  dingy  rooms  shown 
us  in  Hamilton's  house  was  that  in  which  he 
married  Burns  to  "  Bonnie  Jean"  Armour. 
The  bard's  niece.  Miss  Begg,  of  Bridgeside, 
196 


Personal  Appearance 

told  the  writer  that  she  often  heard  Burns's 
mother  describe  Mary  as  she  saw  her  at  Hamil- 
ton's :  she  had  a  bonnie  face,  a  complexion  of 
unusual  fairness,  soft  blue  eyes,  a  profusion  of 
shining  hair  which  fell  to  her  knees,  a  petite  fig- 
ure which  made  her  seem  younger  than  her 
twenty  summers,  a  bright  smile,  and  pleasing 
manners,  which  won  the  old  lady's  heart.  This 
description  is,  in  superlative  phrase,  corrobo- 
rated by  Lindsay  in  Hugh  Miller's  "  Recol- 
lections :"  she  was  "  beautiful,  sylph-like,"  her 
bust  and  neck  were  "  exquisitely  moulded,"  her 
arms  and  feet  "  had  a  statue-like  symmetry  and 
marble-like  whiteness  ;"  but  it  was  in  her  lovely 
countenance  that  "  nature  seemed  to  have  ex- 
hausted her  utmost  skill," — "  the  loveliest  creat- 
ure I  have  ever  seen,"  etc.  All  who  have 
written  of  her  have  noticed  her  beauty,  her  good 
sense,  her  modesty  and  self-respect.  But  these 
qualities  were  now  insufficient  to  hold  the  roving 
fancy  of  Burns,  whose  "  susceptibility  to  imme- 
diate impressions"  (so  called  by  Byron,  who 
had  the  same  failing)  passes  belief.  His  first 
ephemeral  fancy  for  Mary  took  little  hold  upon 
his  heart,  and  the  best  that  can  be  said  of  it  is 
that  it  was  more  innocent  than  the  loves  which 
came  before  and  after  it.  Within  a  stone's-throw 
of  Mary  dwelt  Jean  Armour,  and  when  the 
former  returned  to  Coilsfield,  he  promptly  fell 

197 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

in  love  with  Jean,  and  solaced  himself  with  her 
more  buxom  and  compliant  charms.  It  was  a 
year  or  so  later,  when  his  intercourse  with  Jean 
had  burdened  him  with  grief  and  shame,  that 
the  tender  and  romantic  affection  for  Mary  came 
into  his  life.  She  was  yet  at  Coilsfield,  and 
while  he  was  in  hiding — his  heart  tortured  by 
the  apparent  perfidy  of  Jean  and  all  the  country- 
side condemning  his  misconduct — his  intimacy 
with  Mary  was  renewed;  his  quickened  vision 
now  discerned  her  endearing  attributes,  her  trust 
and  sympathy  were  precious  in  his  distress, 
and  awoke  in  him  an  affection  such  as  he  never 
felt  for  any  other  woman.  During  a  few  brief 
weeks  the  lovers  spent  their  evenings  and  Sab- 
baths together,  loitering  amid  the 

"  Banks  and  braes  and  streams  around 
The  castle  of  Montgomery," 

talking  of  the  golden  days  that  were  to  be  theirs 
when  present  troubles  were  past ;  then  came  the 
parting  which  the  world  will  never  forget,  and 
Mary  relinquished  her  service  and  went  to  her 
parents  at  Campbeltown, — a  port  of  Cantyre 
behind  "  Arran's  mountain  isle."  Of  this  part- 
ing Burns  says,  in  a  letter  to  Thomson,  "  We 
met  by  appointment  on  the  second  Sunday  of 
May,  in  a  sequestered  spot  on  the  Ayr,  where 
we  spent  the  day  in  taking  farewell  before  she 

198 


Betrothal  and  Parting — Mementos 

should  embark  for  the  West  Highlands  to  pre- 
pare for  our  projected  change  of  life."     Lovers 
of  Burns  linger  over  this  final  parting,  and  detail 
the  impressive  ceremonials  v^^ith  which  the  pair 
solemnized  their  betrothal  :  they  stood  on  either 
side  of  a   brook,  they  laved  their  hands  in  the 
water  and  scattered  it  in  the  air  to  symbolize  the 
purity  of  their  intentions  ;  clasping  hands  above 
an  open  Bible,  they  swore  to  be  true  to  each 
other  forever,  then  exchanged  Bibles,  and  parted 
never    to  meet   more.     It    is    not  strange   that 
when  death  had  left  him  nothing  of  her  but  her 
poor  little  Bible,  a  tress  of  her  golden  hair,  and 
a  tender   memory  of  her   love,  the  recollection 
of  this   farewell   remained   in   his  soul  forever. 
He    has   pictured   it    in   the   exquisite  lines  of 
"  Highland  Mary"  and  "  To  Mary  in  Heaven." 
In   the  monument  at  Alloway — between  the 
"  auld    haunted    kirk"    and    the     bridge    where 
Maggie  lost  her  tail — we  are  shown  a  memento 
of  the  parting ;  it  is  the  Bible  which  Burns  gave 
to  Mary  and  above  which  their  vows  were  said. 
At  Mary's  death   it  passed   to  her  sister,  at  Ar- 
drossan,  who  bequeathed  it  to  her  son  William 
Anderson  ;  subsequently  it  was  carried  to  Amer- 
ica by  one  of  the  family,  whence   it   has    been 
recovered  to  be  treasured  here.     It  is  a  pocket 
edition    in  two  volumes,  to    one    o{  which   is 
attached  a   lock    of  poor   Mary's   shining    hair. 

199 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

Within  the  cover  of  the  first  volume  the  hand 
of  Burns  has  written,  "  And  ye  shall  not  swear 
by  my  name  falsely,  I  am  the  Lord ;"  within 
the  second,  "  Thou  shalt  not  forswear  thyself, 
but  shalt  perform  unto  the  Lord  thine  oaths." 
Upon  a  blank  leaf  of  each  volume  is  Burns's 
Masonic  signet,  with  the  signature,  "  Robert 
Burns,  Mossgiel,"  written  beneath.  Mary's 
spinning-wheel  is  preserved  in  the  adjoining 
cottage.  A  few  of  her  bright  hairs,  severed  in 
her  fatal  fever,  are  among  the  treasures  of  the 
writer  and  lie  before  him  as  he  pens  these  lines. 
A  visit  to  the  scenes  of  the  brief  passion  of 
the  pair  is  a  pleasing  incident  of  our  Burns-pil- 
grimage. Coilsfield  House  is  somewhat  changed 
since  Mary  dwelt  beneath  its  roof, — a  great  ram- 
bling edifice  of  gray  weather-worn  stone  with  a 
row  of  white  pillars  aligned  along  its  fa9ade,  its 
massive  walls  embowered  in  foliage  and  envi- 
roned by  the  grand  woods  which  Burns  and 
Mary  knew  so  well.  It  was  then  a  seat  of  Colo- 
nel Hugh  Montgomerie,  a  patron  of  Burns. 
The  name  Coilsfield  is  derived  from  Coila,  the 
traditional  appellation  of  the  district.  The 
grounds  comprise  a  billowy  expanse  of  wood 
and  sward ;  great  reaches  of  turf,  dotted  with 
trees  already  venerable  when  the  lovers  here  had 
their  tryst  a  hundred  years  ago,  slope  away  from 
the  mansion    to  the  Faile  and  border  its  mur- 

200 


Coilsfield — Plans  of  the  Lovers 

muring  course  to  the  Ayr.  Here  we  trace  with 
romantic  interest  the  wanderings  of  the  pair 
during  the  swift  hours  of  that  last  day  of  part- 
ing love,  their  lingering  way  'neath  the  "  wild 
wood's  thickening  green,"  by  the  pebbled  shore 
of  Ayr  to  the  brooklet  where  their  vows  were 
made,  and  thence  along  the  Faile  to  the  wood- 
land shades  of  Coilsfield,  where,  at  the  close  of 
that  winged  day,  *'  pledging  oft  to  meet  again, 
they  tore  themselves  asunder."  Howitt  found 
at  Coilsfield  a  thorn-tree,  called  by  all  the  coun- 
try "  Highland  Mary's  thorn,"  and  believed  to 
be  the  place  of  final  parting ;  years  ago  the  tree 
was  notched  and  broken  by  souvenir  seekers  ;  if 
it  be  still  in  existence  the  present  occupant  of 
Coilsfield  is  unaware. 

At  the  time  of  his  parting  with  Mary,  Burns 
had  already  resolved  to  emigrate  to  Jamaica,  and 
it  has  been  supposed,  from  his  own  statements  and 
those  of  his  biographers,  that  the  pair  planned  to 
emigrate  together ;  but  Burns  soon  abandoned 
this  project  and,  perhaps,  all  thought  of  marrying 
Mary.  The  song  commencing  "  Will  ye  go  to 
the  Indies,  my  Mary  ?"  has  been  quoted  to  show 
he  expected  her  to  accompany  him,  but  he  says, 
in  an  epistle  to  Thomson,  that  this  was  his  fare- 
well to  her,  and  in  another  song,  written  while 
preparing  to  embark,  he  declares  that  it  is  leaving 
Mary  that  makes  him  wish  to  tarry.     Further, 


20 1 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

we  find  that  with  the  first  nine  pounds  received 
from  the  sale  of  his  poems  he  purchased  a  single 
passage  to  Jamaica, — manifestly  having  no  inten- 
tion of  taking  her  with  him.  Her  being  at 
Greenock  in  October,  en  route  to  a  new  place 
of  service  at  Glasgow,  indicates  she  had  no 
hope  that  he  would  marry  her  then,  or  soon. 
True,  he  afterward  said  she  came  to  Greenock 
to  meet  him,  but  it  is  certain  that  he  knew 
nothing  of  her  being  there  until  after  her  death. 
During  the  summer  of  1786,  while  she  was  pre- 
paring to  wed  him,  he  indited  two  love-songs  to 
her,  but  they  are  not  more  glowing  than  those 
of  the  same  time  to  several  inamoratas, — less 
impassioned  than  the  "  Farewell  to  Eliza"  and 
allusions  to  Jean  in  "  Farewell,  old  Scotia's  bleak 
domains," — and  barely  four  weeks  after  his  ar- 
dent and  solemn  parting  with  Mary  we  find  him 
writing  to  Brice,  "  I  do  still  love  Jean  to  dis- 
traction." Poor  Mary !  Possibly  the  fever 
mercifully  saved  her  from  dying  of  a  broken 
heart.  The  bard's  anomalous  affectional  condi- 
tion and  conduct  may  perhaps  be  explained  by 
assuming  that  he  loved  Mary  with  a  refined  and 
spiritual  passion  so  different  from  his  love  for 
others— and  especially  from  his  conjugal  love 
for  Jean — that  the  passions  could  coexist  in  his 
heart.  The  alternative  explanation  is  that  his 
love  for  Mary,  while  she  lived,  was  by  no  means 

20a 


Burns's  Regard  for  Mary — Her  Death 

the  absorbing  passion  which  he  afterward  be- 
lieved it  to  have  been.  When  death  had  hal- 
lowed his  memories  of  her  love  and  of  all  their 
sweet  intercourse, — beneficent  death  !  that  beau- 
tifies, ennobles,  irradiates,  in  the  remembrance 
of  survivors,  the  loved  ones  its  touch  has  taken, 
— then  his  soul,  swelling  with  the  passion  that 
throbs  in  the  strains  of  "  To  Mary  in  Heaven," 
would  not  own  to  itself  that  its  love  had  ever 
been  less. 

Mary  remained  at  Campbeltown  during  the 
summer  of  1786.  Coming  to  Greenock  in  the 
autumn,  she  found  her  brother  sick  of  a  malig- 
nant fever  at  the  house  of  her  aunt ;  bravely 
disregarding  danger  of  contagion,  she  devoted 
herself  to  nursing  him,  and  brought  him  to  a 
safe  convalescence  only  to  be  herself  stricken  by 
his  malady  and  to  rapidly  sink  and  die,  a  sacrifice 
to  her  sisterly  affection.  By  this  time  the  suc- 
cess of  his  poems  had  determined  Burns  to  re- 
main in  Scotland,  and  he  returned  to  Mossgiel, 
where  tidings  of  Mary's  death  reached  him. 
His  brother  relates  that  when  the  letter  was 
handed  to  him  he  went  to  the  window  to  read 
it,  then  his  face  was  observed  to  change  sud- 
denly, and  he  quickly  went  out  without  speak- 
ing. In  June  of  the  next  year  he  made  a  soli- 
tary journey  to  the  Highlands,  apparently  drawn 
by  memory  of  Mary.     If,  indeed,  he  dropped 

20': 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

a  tear  upon  her  neglected  grave  and  visited 
her  humble  Highland  home,  we  may  almost 
forgive  him  the  excesses  of  that  tour,  if  not 
the  renewed  liaison  with  Jean  which  imme- 
diately preceded,  and  the  amorous  correspond- 
ence with  "  Clarinda"  (Mrs.  M'Lehose)  which 
followed  it. 

Whatever  the  quality  or  degree  of  his  passion 
for  Mary  living,  his  grief  for  her  dead  was  deep 
and  tender,  and  expired  only  with  his  life. 
Cherished  in  his  heart,  it  manifested  itself  now 
in  some  passage  of  a  letter,  now  in  some  pa- 
thetic burst  of  song, — like  "  The  Lament"  and 
*'  Highland  Mary," — and  again  in  some  emo- 
tional act.  Of  many  such  acts  narrated  to  the 
writer  by  Burns's  niece,  the  following  is,  per- 
haps, most  striking.  The  poet  attended  the 
wedding  of  Kirstie  Kirkpatrick,  a  favorite  of  his, 
who  often  sang  his  songs  for  him,  and,  after  the 
wedded  pair  had  retired,  a  lass  of  the  company, 
being  asked  to  sing,  began  "  Highland  Mary." 
Its  effect  upon  Burns  "  was  painful  to  witness ; 
he  started  to  his  feet,  prayed  her  in  God's  name 
to  forbear,  then  hastened  to  the  door  of  the 
marriage-chamber  and  entreated  the  bride  to 
come  and  quiet  his  mind  with  a  verse  or  two 
of  '  Bonnie  Doon.'  "  The  lines  "  To  Mary  in 
Heaven"  and  the  pathetic  incidents  of  their  com- 
position show  most  touchingly  how  he  mourned 

204 


Her  Grave 

his  fair-haired  lassie  years  after  she  ceased  to  be. 
It  was  at  Ellisland,  October  20,  1789,  the  anni- 
versary of  Mary's  death,  an  occasion  which 
brought  afresh  to  his  heart  memories  of  the  ten- 
der past.  Jean  has  told  us  of  his  increasing  si- 
lence and  unrest  as  the  day  declined,  of  his 
aimless  wandering  by  Nithside  at  nightfall,  of 
his  rapt  abstraction  as  he  lay  pillowed  by  the 
sheaves  of  his  stack-yard,  gazing  entranced  at 
the  "  lingering  star"  above  him  till  the  immortal 
song  was  born. 

Poor  Mary  is  laid  in  the  burial-plot  of  her 
uncle  in  the  west  kirk-yard  of  Greenock,  near 
Crawford  Street ;  our  pilgrimage  in  Burnsland 
may  fitly  end  at  her  grave.  A  pathway,  beaten 
by  the  feet  of  many  reverent  visitors,  leads  us  to 
the  spot.  It  is  so  pathetically  different  from  the 
scenes  she  loved  in  life, — the  heather-clad  slopes 
of  her  Highland  home,  the  seclusion  of  the 
wooded  braes  where  she  loitered  with  her  poet- 
lover.  Scant  foliage  is  about  her ;  few  birds 
sing  above  her  here.  She  lies  by  the  wall ; 
narrow  streets  hem  in  the  enclosure ;  the  air  is 
sullied  by  smoke  from  factories  and  from  steam- 
ers passing  within  a  stone's-throw  on  the  busy 
Clyde  ;  the  clanging  of  many  hammers  and  the 
discordant  din  of  machinery  and  traffic  invade 
the  place  and  sound  in  our  ears  as  we  muse  above 
the  ashes  of  the  gentle  lassie. 

Z05 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

For  half  a  century  her  grave  was  unmarked 
and  neglected ;  then,  hj  subscription,  a  monu- 
ment of  marble,  twelve  feet  in  height,  and  of 
graceful  proportions,  was  raised.  It  bears  a 
sculptured  medallion  representing  Burns  and 
Mary,  with  clasped  hands,  plighting  their  troth. 
Beneath  is  the  simple  inscription,  read  oft  by 
eyes  dim  with  tears  : 

Erected  Over  the  Grave  of 
Highland  Mary 
1 842. 
"  My  Mary,  dear  departed  shade, 

Where  is  thy  place  of  blissful  rest?" 


2oS 


BRONTE    SCENES  IN   BRUS- 
SELS 


School-Class-Rooms-Dormitory— Garden-Scenes  and  Events  of 
Vlllette  andTke  Professor-M.  Paul-Madame  Beck-Mem- 
ories of  the  Brontes-Confessional-Grave  of  Jessy  Yorke. 

T  T  7E  had  "  done"  Brussels  after  the  approved 
^  '  fashion, — had  faithfully  visited  the 
churches,  palaces,  museums,  theatres,  galleries, 
monuments ;  had  duly  admired  the  window^s  and 
carvings  of  the  grand  cathedral,  the  tower  and 
tapestry  and  frescos  and  facade  of  the  Hotel  de 
Ville,  the  stately  halls  and  the  gilded  dome  of 
the  Courts  of  Justice,  and  the  consummate  beauty 
of  the  Bourse ;  had  diligently  sought  out  the 
naive  boy-fountain,  and  had  made  the  usual  ex- 
cursion to  the  field  of  Waterloo. 

This  delightful  task  being  conscientiously 
discharged,  we  proposed  to  devote  our  last  day  in 
the  Belgian  capital  to  the  accomplishment  of  one 
of  the  cherished  projects  of  our  lives, — the  search- 
ing out  of  the  localities  associated  with  Charlotte 
Bronte's  unhappy  school-life  here,  which  she 
has  so  graphically  portrayed.  For  our  purpose 
no  guide  was  needful,  for  the  topography  and 
local  coloring  of  "  Villette"  and  "  The  Profes- 
sor" are  as  vivid  and  unmistakable  as  in  the  best 
work  of  Dickens  himself.     Proceeding  from  St. 

i07 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

Gudule  to  the  Rue  Royale,  and  a  short  distance 
along  that  thoroughfare,  we  reached  the  park 
and  a  locality  familiar  to  Miss  Bronte's  readers. 
Seated  in  this  lovely  pleasure-ground,  the  gift 
of  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa,  with  its  cool 
shade  all  about  us,  we  noted  the  long  avenues 
and  the  paths  winding  amid  trees  and  shrubbery, 
the  dark  foliage  ineffectually  veiling  the  gleaming 
statuary  and  the  sheen  of  bright  fountains,  "  the 
stone  basin  with  its  clear  depth,  the  thick- 
planted  trees  which  framed  this  tremulous  and 
rippled  mirror,"  the  groups  of  happy  people 
filling  the  seats  in  secluded  nooks  or  loitering  in 
the  mazes  and  listening  to  the  music ;  we  noted 
all  this,  and  felt  that  Miss  Bronte  had  revealed 
it  to  us  long  ago.  It  was  across  this  park  that 
Lucy  Snowe  was  piloted  from  the  bureau  of  the 
diligence  by  the  chivalrous  Dr.  John  on  the 
night  when  she,  despoiled,  helpless,  and  solitary, 
arrived  in  Brussels.  She  found  the  park  deserted, 
the  paths  miry,  the  water  dripping  from  the 
trees.  "  In  the  double  gloom  of  tree  and  fog 
she  could  not  see  her  guide,  and  could  only  fol- 
low his  tread"  in  the  darkness.  We  recalled 
another  scene  under  these  same  trees,  on  a 
night  when  the  gate-way  was  **  spanned  by  a 
flaming  arch  of  massed  stars."  The  park  was  a 
**  forest  with  sparks  of  purple  and  ruby  and 
golden   fire   gemming   the   foliage,"  and    Lucy, 

208 


The  Park — Heger  Mansion 

driven  from  her  couch  by  mental  torture, 
wandered  unrecognized  amid  the  gay  throng  at 
the  midnight  concert  of  the  Festival  of  the 
Martyrs  and  looked  upon  her  lover,  her  friends 
the  Brettons,  and  the  secret  junta  of  her  enemies, 
Madame  Beck,  Madame  Walravens,  and  Pere 
Silas.  The  sense  of  familiarity  with  the  vici- 
nage grew  as  we  observed  our  surroundings. 
Facing  us,  at  the  extremity  of  the  park,  was  the 
palace  of  the  king,  in  the  small  square  across  the 
Rue  Royale  at  our  right  was  the  statue  of  Gen- 
eral Beliard,  and  we  knew  that  just  behind  it  we 
should  find  the  Bronte  school ;  for  "  The  Pro- 
fessor," standing  by  the  statue,  had  looked  down 
a  great  staircase  to  the  door-way  of  the  school, 
and  poor  Lucy  on  that  forlorn  first  night  in 
"  Villette,"  to  avoid  a  pair  of  ruffians,  had 
hastened  down  a  flight  of  steps  from  the  Rue 
Royale  and  had  come,  not  to  the  inn  she  sought, 
but  to  the  pensionnat  of  Madame  Beck.  From  the 
statue  we  descended,  by  a  series  of  stone  stairs, 
into  a  narrow  street,  old-fashioned  and  clean, 
quiet  and  secluded  in  the  very  heart  of  the  great 
city,  and  just  opposite  the  foot  of  the  steps  we 
came  to  the  wide  door  of  a  spacious,  quadrangu- 
lar, stuccoed  old  mansion,  with  a  bit  of  foliage 
showing  over  a  high  wall  at  one  side.  A  bright 
plate  embellished  the  door  and  bore  the  name 
Heger.  A  Latin  inscription  in  the  wall  of  the 
o  209 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

house  showed  it  to  have  been  given  to  the  Guild 
of  Royal  Archers  by  the  Infanta  Isabelle  early 
in  the  seventeenth  century.  Long  before  that 
the  garden  had  been  the  orchard  and  herbary  of 
a  convent  and  the  Hospital  for  the  Poor. 

We  were  detained  at  the  door  long  enough 
to  remember  Lucy  standing  there,  trembling  and 
anxious,  awaiting  admission,  and  then  we  too 
were  "  let  in  by  a  bonne  in  a  smart  cap,"  appar- 
ently a  fit  successor  to  the  Rosine  of  other  days, 
and  entered  the  corridor.  This  was  paved  with 
blocks  of  black  and  white  marble  and  had 
painted  walls.  It  extended  through  the  entire 
depth  of  the  house,  and  at  its  farther  extremity 
an  open  door  afforded  us  a  glimpse  of  the  garden. 
We  were  ushered  into  the  little  salon  at  the  left 
of  the  passage,  the  one  often  mentioned  in 
"  Villette,"  and  here  we  made  known  our  wish 
to  see  the  garden  and  class-rooms,  and  met  with 
a  prompt  refusal  from  the  neat  portress.  We 
tried  diplomacy  (also  lucre)  without  avail :  it 
was  t.\\t  grandes  vacances,  M.  Heger  was  engaged, 
we  could  not  be  gratified, — unless,  indeed,  we 
were  patrons  of  the  school.  At  this  juncture  a 
portly,  ruddy-faced  lady  of  middle  age  and  most 
courteous  of  speech  and  manner  appeared,  and, 
addressing  us  in  faultless  English,  introduced 
herself  as  Mdlle.  Heger,  co-directress  of  the 
school,    and    "wholly    at    our    service."       In 

2IO 


Characters  of  Villette 

response  to  our  apologies  for  the  intrusion  and 
explanations  of  the  desire  which  had  prompted 
it,  we  received  complaisant  assurances  of  wel- 
come ;  yet  the  manner  of  our  entertainer  indi- 
cated that  she  did  not  share  in  our  admiration  and 
enthusiasm  for  Charlotte  Bronte  and  her  books. 
In  the  subsequent  conversation  it  appeared  that 
Mademoiselle  and  her  family  hold  decided 
opinions  upon  the  subject, — something  more 
than  mere  lack  of  admiration.  She  was  familiar 
with  the  novels,  and  thought  that,  while  they 
exhibit  a  talent  certainly  not  above  mediocrity, 
they  reflect  the  injustice,  the  untruthfulness,  and 
the  ingratitude  of  their  creator.  We  were  obliged 
to  confess  to  ourselves  that  the  family  have 
reason  for  this  view,  when  we  reflected  that  in 
the  books  Miss  Bronte  has  assailed  their  religion 
and  disparaged  the  school  and  the  characters  of 
the  teachers  and  pupils,  has  depicted  Madame 
Heger  in  the  odious  duad  of  Madame  Beck  and 
Mdlle.  Renter,  has  represented  M.  Heger  as  the 
scheming  and  deceitful  Pelet  and  the  preposter- 
ous Paul,  Lucy  Snowe's  lover ;  that  this  lover 
was  the  husband  of  Madame  Heger,  and  father 
of  the  family  of  children  to  whom  Lucy  was  at 
first  bonne  d'enfants,  and  that  possibly  the 
daughter  she  has  described  as  the  thieving, 
vicious  Desiree — "  that  tadpole  Desiree  Beck" 
— was  this  very  lady  now  so  politely  entertaining 

211 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

us.  To  all  this  add  the  significant  fact  that 
"  Villette"  is  an  autobiographical  novel,  which 
*'  records  the  most  vivid  passages  in  Miss 
Bronte's  own  sad  heart's  history,"  not  a  few  of 
the  incidents  being  transcripts  "  from  the  darkest 
chapter  of  her  own  life,"  and  the  light  which 
the  consideration  of  this  fact  throws  upon  her 
relations  with  members  of  the  family  will  help 
us  to  apprehend  the  stand-point  from  which  the 
Hegers  judge  Miss  Bronte  and  her  work,  and  to 
excuse  a  natural  resentment  against  one  who  has 
presented  them  in  a  decidedly  bad  light.  How 
bad  we  realized  when,  during  the  ensuing  chat, 
we  called  to  mind  just  what  she  had  written  of 
them.  As  Madame  Beck,  Madame  Heger  had 
been  represented  as  lying,  deceitful,  and  shame- 
less, as  "  watching  and  spying  everywhere, 
peeping  through  every  key-hole,  listening  behind 
every  door,"  as  duplicating  Lucy's  keys  and 
secretly  searching  her  bureau,  as  meanly  ab- 
stracting her  letters  and  reading  them  to  others, 
as  immodestly  laying  herself  out  to  entrap  the 
man  to  whom  she  had  given  her  love  unsought. 
It  was  some  accession  to  the  existing  animosity 
between  herself  and  Madame  Heger  which  pre- 
cipitated Miss  Bronte's  departure  from  tht  pen- 
sionnat.  Mrs.  Gaskell  ascribes  their  mutual  dis- 
like to  Charlotte's  free  expression  of  her  aversion 
to    the    Catholic    Church,    of   which    Madame 

2IZ 


The  H^gers 

Heger  was  a  devotee,  and  hence  "  wounded  in 
her  most  cherished  opinions  ;"  but  a  later  writer 
plainly  intimates  that  Miss  Bronte  hated  the 
woman  who  sat  for  Madame  Beck  because  mar- 
riage had  given  to  her  the  man  whom  Miss 
Bronte  loved,  and  that  "  Madame  Beck  had 
need  to  be  a  detective  in  her  own  house."  The 
death  of  Madame  Heger  had  rendered  the 
family,  who  held  her  only  as  a  sacred  memory, 
more  keenly  sensitive  than  ever  to  anything 
which  would  seem  by  implication  to  disparage 
her. 

For  himself,  it  would  appear  that  M.  Heger 
had  less  cause  for  resentment ;  for,  although  in 
**  Villette"  his  double  is  pictured  as  "  a  waspish 
little  despot,"  as  detestably  ugly,  in  his  anger 
closely  resembling  "  a  black  and  sallow  tiger," 
as  having  an  **  overmastering  love  of  authority 
and  public  display,"  as  playing  the  spy  and 
reading  purloined  letters,  and  in  the  Bronte 
epistles  Charlotte  declares  he  is  choleric  and 
irritable,  compels  her  to  make  her  French  trans- 
lations without  a  dictionary  or  grammar,  and 
then  has  "  his  eyes  almost  plucked  out  of  his 
head"  by  the  occasional  English  word  she  is 
obliged  to  introduce,  etc.,  yet  all  this  is  partially 
atoned  for  by  the  warm  praise  she  subsequently 
accords  him  for  his  goodness  to  her  and  his  dis- 
interested friendship,  by  the  poignant  regret  she 

ai3 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

expresses  at  parting  with  him, — perhaps  wholly- 
expiated  by  the  high  compliment  she  pays  him 
of  making  her  heroine  fall  in  love  with  him,  or 
the  higher  compliment  it  is  suspected  she  paid 
him  of  falling  in  love  with  him  herself.  One 
who  reads  the  strange  history  of  passion  in 
"  Villette,"  in  conjunction  with  her  letters, 
**  will  know  more  of  the  truth  of  her  stay  in 
Brussels  than  if  a  dozen  biographers  had  under- 
taken to  tell  the  whole  tale."  Still,  M.  Heger 
can  hardly  be  pleased  by  having  members  of  his 
school  set  forth  as  stupid,  animal,  and  inferior, 
"  their  principles  rotten  to  the  core,  steeped  in 
systematic  sensuality,"  by  having  his  religion 
styled  "  besotted  papistry,  a  piece  of  childish 
humbug,"  and  the  like.  Something  of  the  dis- 
pleasure of  the  family  was  revealed  in  the  course 
of  our  conversation  with  Mdlle.  Heger,  but  the 
specific  causes  were  but  cursorily  touched  upon. 
She  could  have  no  personal  recollection  of  the 
Brontes;  her  knowledge  of  them  was  derived 
from  her  parents  and  the  teachers, — presumably 
the  "  repulsive  old  maids"  of  Charlotte's  letters. 
One  teacher  whom  we  saw  in  the  school  had 
been  a  classmate  of  Charlotte's  here.  The 
Brontes  had  not  been  popular  with  the  school. 
Their  "  heretical"  religion  had  something  to  do 
with  this ;  but  their  manifest  avoidance  of  the 
other  pupils   during  hours  of  recreation,  Mad- 

ZI4 


Recollections  of  the  Brontes 

emoiselle  thought,  had  been  a  more  potent  cause, 
— Emily,  in  particular,  not  speaking  with  her 
school-mates  or  teachers,  except  when  obliged  to 
do  so.  The  other  pupils  thought  them  of  out- 
landish accent  and  manners,  and  ridiculously  old 
to  be  at  school  at  all, — being  twenty-four  and 
twenty-six,  and  seeming  even  older.  Their 
sombre  and  ugly  costumes  were  fruitful  causes 
of  mirth  to  the  gay  young  Belgian  misses.  The 
Brontes  were  not  brilliant  students,  and  none  of 
their  companions  had  ever  suspected  that  they 
were  geniuses.  Of  the  two,  Emily  was  consid- 
ered to  be  the  more  talented,  but  she  was  obsti- 
nate and  opinionated.  Some  of  the  pupils  had 
been  inclined  to  resist  having  Charlotte  placed 
over  them  as  teacher,  and  may  have  been  muti- 
nous. After  her  return  from  Haworth  she 
taught  English  to  M.  Heger  and  his  brother-in- 
law.  M.  Heger  gave  the  sisters  private  lessons 
in  French  without  charge,  and  for  some  time 
preserved  their  compositions,  which  Mrs.  Gas- 
kell  copied.  Mrs.  Gaskell  visited  the  pensionnat 
in  quest  of  material  for  her  biography  of  Char- 
lotte, and  received  all  the  aid  M.  Heger  could 
afford :  the  information  thus  obtained  was,  we 
were  told,  fairly  used.  Miss  Bronte's  letters 
from  Brussels,  so  freely  quoted  in  Mrs.  Gaskell's 
"  Life,"  were  addressed  to  Ellen  Nussy,  a  famil- 
iar friend  of  Charlotte's,  whose  signature  we  saw 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

in  the  register  at  Haworth  as  witness  to  Miss 
Bronte's  marriage.  The  Hegers  had  no  sus- 
picion that  she  had  been  so  unhappy  with  them 
as  these  letters  indicate,  and  she  had  assigned  a 
totally  different  reason  for  her  sudden  return  to 
England.  She  had  been  introduced  to  Madame 
Heger  by  Mrs.  Jenkins,  wife  of  the  then  chap- 
lain of  the  British  Embassy  at  the  Court  of  Bel- 
gium ;  she  had  frequently  visited  that  lady  and 
other  friends  in   Brussels, — among  them   Mary 

and  Martha  Taylor  and  the  family  of  a  Dr. 

{not  "  Dr.  John"),— and  therefore  her  life  here 
need  not  have  been  so  lonely  and  desolate  as  it 
was  made  to  appear. 

The  Hegers  usually  have  a  {tsw  English  pupils 
in  the  school,  but  have  never  had  an  American. 
American  tourists  have  before  called  to  look  at 
the  garden,  but  the  family  are  not  pleased  by 
the  notoriety  with  which  Miss  Bronte  has  in- 
vested it.  However,  Mdlle.  Heger  kindly  offered 
to  conduct  us  over  any  portion  oi  the  establish- 
ment we  might  care  to  see,  and  led  the  way  along 
the  corridor  to  the  narrow,  high-walled  garden. 
We  found  it  smaller  than  in  the  time  when  Miss 
Bronte  loitered  here  in  weariness  and  solitude. 
Mdlle.  Heger  explained  that,  while  the  width 
remained  the  same,  the  erection  of  class-rooms 
for  the  day-pupils  had  diminished  the  length  by 
some  yards.     Tall  houses  surrounded  and  shut 

216 


The  Garden 

it  in  on  either  side,  making  it  close  and  sombre, 
and  the  noises  of  the  great  city  all  about  it 
penetrated  only  as  a  far-away  murmur.  There 
was  a  plat  of  verdant  turf  in  the  centre,  bordered 
by  scant  flowers  and  gravelled  walks,  along  which 
shrubs  of  evergreen  were  irregularly  disposed. 
A  few  seats  were  here  and  there  within  the  shade, 
where,  as  in  Miss  Bronte's  time,  the  externats 
ate  the  lunch  brought  with  them  to  the  school ; 
and  overlooking  it  all  stood  the  great  pear-trees, 
whose  gnarled  and  deformed  trunks  were  relics 
of  the  time  of  the  convent.  Beyond  these  and 
along  the  gray  wall  which  bounded  the  farther 
side  of  the  enclosure  was  the  sheltered  walk 
which  was  Miss  Bronte's  favorite  retreat,  the 
"allee  defendue"  of  her  novels.  It  was  screened 
by  shrubs  and  perfumed  by  flowers,  and,  being 
secure  from  the  intrusion  of  pupils,  we  could 
well  believe  that  Charlotte  and  her  heroine  found 
here  restful  seclusion.  The  coolness  and  quiet 
and,  more  than  all,  the  throng  of  vivid  associa- 
tions which  filled  the  place  tempted  us  to  linger. 
The  garden  was  not  a  spacious  nor  even  a  pretty 
one,  and  yet  it  -seemed  to  us  singularly  pleasing 
and  familiar,  as  if  we  were  revisiting  it  after  an 
absence.  Seated  upon  a  rustic  bench  close  at 
hand,  possibly  the  very  one  which  Lucy  had 
"  reclaimed  from  fungi  and  mould,"  how  the 
memories  came  surging  up  in  our  minds !     How 

217 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

often  in  the  summer  twilight  poor  Charlotte  had 
lingered  here  in  solitude  after  the  day's  burdens 
and  trials  with  "  stupid  and  impertinent"  pupils  ! 
How  often,  with  weary  feet  and  a  dreary  heart, 
she  had  paced  this  secluded  walk  and  thought, 
with  longing,  of  the  dear  ones  in  far-away 
Haworth  parsonage !  In  this  sheltered  corner 
her  other  self,  Lucy,  sat  and  listened  to  the  dis- 
tant chimes  and  thought  forbidden  thoughts  and 
cherished  impossible  hopes.  Here  she  met  and 
talked  with  Dr.  John.  Deep  beneath  this 
**  Methuselah  of  a  pear-tree,"  the  one  nearest 
the  end  of  the  alley,  lies  the  imprisoned  dust  of 
the  poor  nun  who  was  buried  alive  ages  ago  for 
some  sin  against  her  vow,  and  whose  perambu- 
lating ghost  so  disquieted  poor  Lucy.  At  the 
root  of  this  same  tree  one  miserable  night  Lucy 
buried  her  precious  letters,  and  meant  also  to 
bury  a  grief  and  her  great  affection  for  Dr. 
John.  Here  she  leant  her  brow  against  Methu- 
selah's knotty  trunk  and  uttered  to  herself  those 
brave  words  of  renunciation,  "  Good-night,  Dr. 
John ;  you  are  good,  you  are  beautiful,  ^ut  you 
are  not  mine.  Good-night,  and  God  bless  you  !" 
Here  she  held  pleasant  converse  with  M.  Paul, 
and  with  him,  spellbound,  saw  the  ghost  of  the 
nun  descend  from  the  leafy  shadows  overhead 
and,  sweeping  close  past  their  wondering  faces, 
disappear   behind    yonder    screen   of  shrubbery 

218 


Garden — School 

into  the  darkness  of  the  summer  night.  By  that 
tall  tree  next  the  class-rooms  the  ghost  was  wont 
to  ascend  to  meet  its  material  sweetheart,  Fan- 
shawe,  in  the  great  garret  beneath  yonder  sky- 
light,— the  garret  where  Lucy  retired  to  read  Dr. 
John's  letter,  and  wherein  M.  Paul  confined  her 
to  learn  her  part  in  the  vaudeville  for  Madame 
Beck's  fSte-da.y.  In  this  nook  where  we  sat 
**  The  Professor"  had  walked  and  talked  with 
and  almost  made  love  to  Mdlle.  Reuter,  and 
from  yonder  window  overlooking  the  alley  had 
seen  that  perfidious  fair  one  in  dalliance  with 
Pelet  beneath  these  pear-trees.  From  that  win- 
dow M.  Paul  watched  Lucy  as  she  sat  or  walked 
in  the  allee  d'efendue,  dogged  by  Madame  Beck  ; 
from  the  same  window  were  thrown  the  love- 
letters  which  fell  at  Lucy's  feet  sitting  here. 
Leaves  from  the  overhanging  boughs  were 
plucked  for  us  as  souvenirs  of  the  place ;  then, 
reverently  traversing  once  more  the  narrow  alley 
so  often  traced  in  weariness  by  Charlotte  Bronte, 
we  turned  away.  From  the  garden  we  entered 
the  long  and  spacious  class-room  of  the  first  and 
second  divisions.  A  movable  partition  divided 
it  across  the  middle  when  the  classes  were  in 
session  ;  the  floor  was  of  bare  boards  cleanly 
scoured.  There  were  long  ranges  of  desks  and 
benches  upon  either  side,  and  a  lane  through 
the  middle  led  up  to  a  raised  platform  at  the  end 

219 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

of  the  room,  where  the  instructor's  chair  and 
desk  were  placed. 

How  quickly  our  fancy  peopled  the  place ! 
On  these  front  seats  sat  the  gay  and  indocile 
Belgian  girls.  There,  "in  the  last  row,  in  the 
quietest  corner,  sat  Emily  and  Charlotte  side  by 
side,  insensible  to  anything  about  them ;"  and 
at  the  same  desk,  **  in  the  farthest  seat  of  the 
farthest  row,"  sat  Mdlle.  Henri  during  Crims- 
worth's  English  lessons.  Here  Lucy's  desk  was 
rummaged  by  Paul  and  the  tell-tale  odor  of 
cigars  left  behind.  Here,  after  school-hours. 
Miss  Bronte  taught  Heger  English,  he  taught 
her  French,  and  Paul  taught  Lucy  arithmetic 
and  (incidentally)  love.  This  was  the  scene  of 
their  tete-^-tites,  of  his  efforts  to  persuade  her 
into  his  religious  faith,  of  their  ludicrous  sup- 
per of  biscuit  and  baked  apples,  and  of  his  final 
violent  outbreak  with  Madame  Beck,  when  she 
literally  thrust  herself  between  him  and  his  love. 
From  this  platform  Crimsworth  and  Lucy  and 
Charlotte  Bronte  herself  had  given  instruction 
to  pupils  whose  insubordination  had  first  to  be 
confronted  and  overcome.  Here  Paul  and  Heger 
gave  lectures  upon  literature,  and  Paul  delivered 
his  spiteful  tirade  against  the  English  on  the 
morning  of  his  fHe-^z.y.  Upon  this  desk  were 
heaped  his  bouquets  that  morning ;  from  its 
smooth   surface  poor  Lucy  dislodged  and  fract- 

a2o 


M.  Paul 

ured  his  spectacles ;  and  here,  seated  in  Paul's 
chair,  at  Paul's  desk,  we  saw  and  were  presented 
to  Paul  Emanuel  himself, — M.  Heger. 

It  was  something  more  than  curiosity  which 
made  us  alert  to  note  the  appearance  and  manner 
of  this  man,  who  has  been  so  nearly  associated 
with  Miss  Bronte  in  an  intercourse  which  col- 
ored her  subsequent  life  and  determined  her  life- 
worlc,  who  has  been  made  the  hero  of  her  novels 
and  has  been  deemed  the  hero  of  her  own  heart's 
romance ;  and  yet  we  were  curious  to  know 
what  manner  of  man  it  was  who  has  been  so 
much  as  suspected  of  being  honored  with  the 
love  and  preference  of  the  dainty  Charlotte 
Bronte.  During  a  short  conversation  with  him 
we  had  opportunity  to  observe  that  in  person 
this  "  wise,  good,  and  religious"  man  must,  at 
the  time  Miss  Bronte  knew  him,  have  more 
closely  resembled  Pelet  of  "  The  Professor" 
than  any  other  of  her  pen-portraits :  indeed, 
after  the  lapse  of  more  than  forty  years  that 
delineation  still,  for  the  most  part,  aptly  applied 
to  him.  He  was  of  middle  size,  of  rather  spare 
habit  of  body ;  his  face  was  fair  and  the  features 
pleasing  and  regular,  the  cheeks  were  thin  and 
the  mouth  flexible,  the  eyes — somewhat  sunken 
— were  mild  blue  and  of  singularly  pleasant  ex- 
pression. We  found  him  aged  and  somewhat 
infirm  ;  his  finely-shaped  head  was  fringed  with 

221 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

white  hair,  and  partial  baldness  contributed  rev- 
erence to  his  presence  and  tended  to  enhance 
the  intellectual  effect  of  his  wide  brow.  In 
repose  his  countenance  showed  a  hint  of  melan- 
choly :  as  Miss  Bronte  said,  his  "  physiognomy- 
was  fine  et  spirituelle ;''''  one  would  hardly 
imagine  it  could  ever  resemble  the  "visage  of 
a  black  and  sallow  tiger."  His  voice  was  low 
and  soft,  his  bow  still  '*  very  polite,  not  the- 
atrical, scarcely  French,"  his  manner  suave  and 
courteous,  his  dress  scrupulously  neat.  He  ac- 
costed us  in  the  language  Miss  Bronte  taught 
him  forty  years  ago,  and  his  accent  and  diction 
honored  her  instruction.  He  was  talking  with 
some  patrons,  and,  as  his  daughter  had  hinted 
that  he  was  averse  to  speaking  of  Miss  Bronte, 
we  soon  took  leave  of  him  and  were  shown 
other  parts  of  the  school.  The  other  class- 
rooms, used  for  less  advanced  pupils,  were 
smaller.  In  one  of  them  Miss  Bronte  had 
ruled  as  monitress  after  her  return  from  Ha- 
worth.  The  large  dormitory  of  the  pensionnat 
was  above  the  long  class-room,  and  in  the  time 
of  the  Brontes  most  of  the  boarders — about 
twenty  in  number — slept  here.  Their  cots  were 
arranged  along  either  side,  and  the  position  of 
those  occupied  by  the  Brontes  was  pointed  out 
to  us  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  room.  It  was 
here   that   Lucy  suffered  the   horrors  of  hypo- 

222 


School  Scenes — The  Confessional 

chondria,  so  graphically  portrayed  in  "  Villette," 
and  found  the  discarded  costume  of  the  spectral 
nun  lying  upon  her  bed,  and  here  Miss  Bronte 
passed  those  nights  of  wakeful  misery  which 
Mrs.  Gaskell  describes.  A  long,  narrow  room 
in  front  of  the  class-rooms  was  shown  us  as  the 
refectoire,  where  the  Brontes,  with  the  other 
boarders,  took  their  meals,  presided  over  by  M. 
and  Madame  Heger,  and  where,  during  the 
evenings,  the  lessons  for  the  ensuing  days  were 
prepared.  Here  were  held  the  evening  prayers 
which  Charlotte  used  to  avoid  by  escaping  into 
the  garden.  This,  too,  was  the  scene  of  Paul's 
readings  to  teachers  and  pupils,  and  of  some  of 
his  spasms  of  petulance,  which  readers  of  "Vil- 
lette" will  remember.  From  the  refectoire  we 
passed  again  into  the  corridor,  where  we  made 
our  adieus  to  our  affable  conductress.  She  ex- 
plained that,  whereas  this  establishment  had 
been  both  a  pensionnat  and  an  externat,  having 
about  seventy  day-pupils  and  twenty  boarders 
when  Miss  Bronte  was  here,  it  was  after  the 
death  of  Madame  Heger  used  as  a  day-school 
only, — the  pensionnat  being  in  another  street. 

The  genuine  local  color  Miss  Bronte  gives  in 
*'  Villette"  enabled  us  to  be  sure  that  we  had 
found  the  sombre  old  church  where  Lucy, 
arrested  in  passing  by  the  sound  of  the  bells, 
knelt  upon  the  stone  pavement,  passing  thence 

223 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

into  the  confessional  of  Pere  Silas.  Certain  it 
is  that  this  old  church  lies  upon  the  route  she 
would  take  in  the  walk  from  the  school  to  the 
Protestant  cemetery,  which  she  had  set  out  to 
do  that  afternoon,  and  the  narrow  streets  which 
lie  beyond  the  church  correspond  to  those  in 
which  she  was  lost.  Certain,  too,  it  is  said  to 
be  that  this  incident  is  taken  from  her  own  ex- 
perience. Reid  says,  "  During  one  of  the  long 
holidays,  when  her  mind  was  restless  and  dis- 
turbed, she  found  sympathy,  if  not  peace,  in  the 
counsels  of  a  priest  in  the  confessional,  who 
soothed  her  troubled  spirit  without  attempting 
to  enmesh  it  in  the  folds  of  Romanism." 

Our  way  to  the  Protestant  cemetery — a  spot 
sadly  familiar  to  Miss  Bronte,  and  the  usual 
termination  of  her  walks — lay  past  the  site  of 
the  Porte  de  Louvain  and  out  to  the  hills  be- 
yond the  old  city  limits.  From  our  path  we 
saw  more  than  one  tree-shrouded  farm-house 
which  might  have  been  the  place  of  Paul's 
breakfast  with  his  school,  and  at  least  one  quaint 
mansion,  with  green-tufted  and  terraced  lawns, 
which  might  have  served  Miss  Bronte  as  the 
model  for  La  Terrasse,  the  suburban  home  of  the 
Brettons  and  the  temporary  abode  of  the  Taylor 
sisters  whom  she  visited  here.  From  the  ceme- 
tery we  beheld  vistas  of  farther  lines  of  hills, 
of  intervening  valleys,  of  farms  and  villas,  and 

224 


The  Cemetery 

of  the  great  city  lying  below.  Miss  Bronte  has 
well  described  this  place  :  "  Here,  on  pages  of 
stone  and  of  brass,  are  written  names,  dates,  last 
tributes  of  pomp  or  love,  in  English,  French, 
German,  and  Latin."  There  are  stone  crosses 
all  about,  and  great  thickets  of  roses  and  yews ; 
"  cypresses  that  stand  straight  and  mute,  and 
willows  that  hang  low  and  still ;"  and  there  are 
"  dim  garlands  of  everlasting  flowers."  Here 
*'  The  Professor"  found  his  long-sought  sweet- 
heart kneeling  at  a  new-made  grave  under  the 
overhanging  trees.  And  here  we  found  the 
shrine  of  poor  Charlotte  Bronte's  many  pil- 
grimages hither, — the  burial-place  of  her  friend 
and  school-mate,  the  Jessy  Yorke  of  "  Shirley  ;" 
the  spot  where,  under  "  green  sod  and  a  gray 
marble  head-stone,  cold,  cofEned,  solitary,  Jessy 
sleeps  below." 


225 


LEMAN'S   SHRINES 


Beloved  of  Litterateurs— Gibbon-D^  Aubignc-Rousicau-Byron— 
Skelley— Dickens,  etc.— Scenes  of  Childe  Harold-Nouvellt 
Helo't'se— Prisoner  of  Ckillon-Land  of  Byron. 

\  PILGRIMAGE  in  the  track  of  Childe 
•^-*-  Harold  brings  us  from  the  shores  of  Al- 
bion, by  Belgium's  capital  and  deadly  Waterloo, 
along  the  castled  Rhine  and  over  mountain-pass 
to  "  Italia,  home  and  grave  of  empires,"  and  to 
the  sublimer  scenery  of  "  Manfred,"  "  Chillon," 
and  the  third  canto  of  the  pilgrim-poet's  master- 
piece ;  to  his  "  silver-sheeted  Staubbach"  and 
''arrowy  Rhone,"  "soaring  Jungfrau"  and 
"  bleak  Mont  Blanc."  We  linger  with  especial 
pleasure  on  the  shores  of  "  placid  Leman,"  in 
an  enchanting  region  which  teems  with  literary 
shrines  and  is  pervaded  with  memories  and 
associations — often  so  thrilling  and  vivid  that 
they  seem  like  veritable  and  sensible  presences 
— of  the  brilliant  number  who  have  here  had 
their  haunts.  Here  Calvin  wrought  his  Com- 
mentaries ;  here  Voltaire  polished  his  darts ; 
here  Rousseau  laid  the  scenes  of  his  impassioned 
tale ;  here  Dickens,  Byron,  and  Shelley  loitered 
and  wrote ;  here  Gibbon  and  de  Stael,  Schlegel 
and  Constant,  and  many  another  scarcely  less 
famous,  lived  and  wrought  the  treasures  of  their 
knowledge  and  fancy  into  the  literature  of  the 

226 


Haunts  of  Litterateurs 

world.  A  lingering  voyage  round  the  lake,  like 
that  of  Byron  and  Shelley,  is  a  delight  to  be  re- 
membered through  a  lifetime,  and  affords  oppor- 
tunity to  visit  the  spots  consecrated  by  genius  upon 
these  shores.  At  Geneva  we  find  the  inn  where 
Byron  lodged  and  first  met  the  author  of  "  Queen 
Mab,"  the  house  in  which  Rousseau  was  born, 
the  place  where  d'Aubigne  wrote  his  history, 
the  sometime  home  of  John  Calvin.  Near  by, 
in  a  house  presented  by  the  Genevese  after  his 
release  from  the  long  imprisonment  suffered  on 
their  account,  dwelt  Bonnivard,  Byron's  immor- 
tal "  Prisoner  of  Chillon,"  and  here  he  suffered 
from  his  procession  of  wives  and  finally  died. 
Just  beyond  the  site  of  the  fortifications,  on  the 
east  side  of  the  city,  is  an  eminence  whose  slopes 
are  tastefully  laid  out  with  walks  that  wind, 
amid  sward  and  shrub,  to  the  observatory  which 
crowns  the  summit  and  marks  the  site  of  Bon- 
nivard's  Priory  of  St.  Victor,  lost  to  him  by  his 
devotion  to  Genevan  independence.  Not  far 
away  is  the  public  library,  founded  by  his  be- 
quest of  his  modest  collection  of  books  and  MSS. 
which  we  see  here  carefully  preserved.  Here 
also  is  an  old  portrait  of  the  prisoner,  which 
represents  him  as  a  reckless  and  jolly  "  good 
fellow"  rather  than  a  saintly  hero,  and  accords 
better  with  his  character  as  described  by  late 
writers  than  with  the  common  conception  of  him. 

227 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

Byron  loved  this  Leman  lake,  and  it  is  said  his 
discontented  sprite  still  walks  its  margins  ;  cer- 
tain it  is  he  remains  its  poetic  genius;  his  melody 
seems  to  wake  in  every  breeze  that  stirs  its 
surface.  The  Villa  Diodati,  a  plain,  quadrangu- 
lar, three-storied  mansion  of  moderate  dimen- 
sions, standing  on  the  shore  a  few  miles  from 
Geneva,  was  the  handsome  "  Giaour's"  first 
home  after  his  separation  from  Lady  Byron  and 
his  exile  from  England,  It  had  been  the  resi- 
dence of  the  Genevan  Professor  Diodati  and  the 
sojourn  of  his  friend  the  poet  Milton.  Pleasant 
vineyards  surround  the  place  and  slope  awav  to 
the  water,  but  there  is  little  in  the  spot  or  its 
near  environment  to  commend  it  to  the  fancy  of 
a  poet.  Byron's  study  here  was  a  sombre  room 
at  the  back  from  which  neither  the  lake  nor  the 
snowy  peaks  were  visible,  and  here  he  wrote, 
besides  many  minor  poems,  "  Manfred,"  "  Pro- 
metheus," "  Darkness,"  "  Dream,"  and  the  third 
canto  of  "  Childe  Harold."  Here  also  he 
wrote  "  Marriage  of  Belphegor,"  a  tale  setting 
forth  his  version  of  his  own  infelicitous  marriage; 
but  hearing  that  his  wife  was  seriously  ill,  he 
burned  it  in  his  study  fire.  From  here,  by  in- 
stigation of  de  Stael,  he  sent  to  Lady  Byron  in- 
effectual overtures  for  a  reconciliation.  His 
companion  at  the  villa  was  an  eccentric  Italian 
physician,  Polidori,  who  was  uncle  to  the  poet 

228 


Byron  at  Villa  Diodati — Shelley 

Rossetti,  and  who  here  quarrelled  with  Byron's 
guests  and  wrote  **  The  Vampire,"  a  weird  pro- 
duction afterward  attributed  to  Byron.  Lovers 
of  Byron  owe  much  to  his  sojourn  on  Leman ; 
he  found  in  the  inspiring  landscapes  here, 
especially  in  the  environment  of  mountains,  a 
power  that  profoundly  stirred  what  his  wife 
called  "  the  angel  in  him."  His  letters  recog- 
nize an  afflatus  breathed  upon  him  by  the  "majesty 
around  and  above,"  and  the  quality  of  the  poems 
here  produced  shows  his  yielding  and  response 
to  that  benign  influence ;  many  a  gem  of  poetic 
thought  was  here  begotten  of  lake  and  mount 
and  cataract,  which  otherwise  had  never  been. 
The  insincere  stanzas  of  some  of  his  later  poems 
would  scarcely  have  been  written  on  Leman. 
As  we  muse  in  the  spots  he  frequented — wander- 
ing on  the  entrancing  margins  or  floating  on  the 
crystal  waters — and  look  thence  upon  the  snow- 
crowned  peaks,  resplendent  in  the  sunshine  or 
roseate  in  the  after-glow,  we  aspire  to  not  only 
partake  of  his  rapture  in  this  sublime  beauty,  but 
to  appreciate  the  deeper  feelings  to  which  it 
moved  him. 

A  villa  near  Byron's,  and  reached  by  a  path 
through  his  grounds, — Maison  Chapuis,  of  Mont 
Allegra, — was  occupied  that  summer  by  the  "  im- 
passioned Ariel  of  English  verse,"  with  Mary 
Shelley  and  her  brunette  relative  Jane  Clermont 

229 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

(the  Claire  of  Shelley's  journal),  who  after  bore 
to  Byron  a  daughter  called  Alba  by  the  Shelleys, 
but  later  named  by  Byron  Allegra,  for  the 
place  where  he  had  known  the  mother.  At 
Mont  Allegra  "  Bridge  of  Arve,"  "  Intellectual 
Beauty,"  and  Mrs.  Shelley's  weird  "  Franken- 
stein" were  penned.  Here  Byron  was  a  daily  vis- 
itant, and  the  Shelleys  were  the  usual  companions 
of  his  excursions  upon  the  lake  of  beauty,  in  a 
picturesque  lateen-rigged  boat  which  was  the 
property  of  the  poets  and  the  counterpart  of 
which  we  see  moored  by  the  Diodati  shore, 
looking  like  a  bit  of  the  Levant  transported  to 
this  tramontane  water.  The  "  white  phantom" 
observed  by  telescopists  on  the  opposite  shore  to 
sometimes  embark  with  Byron,  and  which  he 
gravely  told  Madame  de  Stael  was  his  dog,  was 
doubtless  the  frail  Claire.  The  admonitions  of 
de  Stael  anent  his  mode  of  life  provoked  Byron 
to  take  sure  revenge  by  being  attentive  to  her 
husband,  which  the  overshadowing  wife  always 
resented  as  an  affront  upon  herself.  It  is  said 
the  poet's  observation  of  this  pair  prompted  the 
couplet  of  "  Don  Juan  :" 

"  But  oh  !   ye  lords  of  ladies  intellectual, 

Inform  us  truly,  have  they  not  henpecked  you  all  ?" 

Passing  for  the  present  the  shrines  of  Ferney 
and  Coppet,  we  find  in  picturesque  Lausanne  the 

230 


Voltaire — Gibbon — Dickens 

quaint  house  in  which  Voltaire  lived  several 
winters,  and  not  far  away  the  place  where 
Secretan  died  a  few  months  ago.  Gibbon's 
dwelling  has  been  demolished,  but  we  find  the 
place  of  his  summer-house  where  the  great  his- 
tory was  completed,  and  of  his  famous  rose-tree 
where  Byron  gathered  roses  long  ago.  Madame 
de  Genlis  narrates  this  incident  of  the  great  "  De- 
cliner  and  Faller"  at  Lausanne :  he  was  enam- 
oured of  the  comely  Madame  Crousaz,  and,  find- 
ing her  alone,  he  knelt  at  her  feet  and  besought 
her  love.  He  received  an  unfavorable  reply,  but 
remained  in  his  humble  posture  until  the  lady, 
after  repeatedly  requesting  him  to  arise,  discov- 
ered that  his  weight  made  it  impossible,  and 
summoned  a  servant  to  assist  him  to  regain  his 
feet.  His  obesity  seems  to  have  been  a  stand- 
ing jest  among  his  acquaintances :  a  sufferer 
from  indigestion,  due  to  lack  of  exercise,  was 
advised  by  a  witty  friend  to  **  walk  twice  around 
Gibbon  before  breakfast."  Several  decades  later 
another  illustrious  English  man  of  letters  so- 
journed in  Lausanne.  A  pretty  cottage-villa, 
with  embowered  walls  and  flower-shaded  porti- 
cos which  look  from  a  mild  eminence  across 
the  crescentic  lake,  was,  in  1846,  the  dwelling  of 
Dickens,  who  here  wrote  one  of  the  matchless 
Christmas  stories  and  a  part  of  "  Dombey  and 
Son."     From  the  magnificent  slope  of  Lausaone 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

the  whole  lake  region  is  visible,  with  the  dark 
Juras  rising  to  the  western  horizon,  the  Alps  of 
Savoy,  and  "  the  monarch  of  mountains  with 
a  diadem  of  snow"  upholding  the  sky  away  in 
the  south.  At  the  foot  of  this  slope  is  the 
port-town  of  Ouchy,  a  resort  of  Byron's  in  his 
sailing  excursions  ;  at  the  plain  little  Anchor  inn 
near  the  quai  (Byron  called  it  a  "  wretched  inn") 
he  lodged,  and  here,  being  detained  two  days 
(June  26  and  27,  1 8 16)  by  a  storm  which  over- 
took him  on  his  return  from  Chillon  and  Clarens, 
he  wrote  the  touching  "  Prisoner  of  Chillon." 
In  a  parsonage  not  far  from  Lausanne  was  reared 
sweet  Suzanne  Curchod,  erst  fiancee  of  Gibbon, 
and  later  the  mother  of  de  Stael. 

Eastward  is  "  Clarens,  birthplace  of  deep 
love,"  whose  **  air  is  the  breath  of  passionate 
thought,  whose  trees  take  root  in  love  ;"  about 
it  lies  the  charming  region  which  Rousseau  chose 
for  his  fiction  and  peopled  with  affections,  and 
where  Byron,  Houghton,  and  Shelley  loved  to 
linger.  Here  the  latter  first  read  "  Nouvelle 
Heloise"  amid  the  settings  of  its  scenes  ;  here 
Byron  wrote  many  glowing  lines,  inspired  by 
the  beauty  and  romantic  associations  around 
him.  From  the  vine-clad  terraces  which  cling 
to  the  heights  we  behold  the  view  which  enrapt- 
ured the  poet, — a  broad  expanse  of  lacustrine 
beauty    and    Alpine    sublimity,   embracing    the 

232 


Rousseau — Chillon 

Leman  shores  from  the  Rhone  to  the  Juras  of 
Gex,  the  entire  width  of  the  "  bleu  impossible'^ 
lake  and  Alp  piled  on  Alp  beyond.  Back  of 
Clarens  we  find  the  spot  of  Rousseau's  "  Bosquet 
de  Julie,"  and,  at  a  little  distance  among  embow- 
ering trees,  the  birthplace  of  a  woman  stranger 
than  any  fancied  character  of  his  fiction,  the 
Madame  de  Warens  of  his  "  Confessions." 

Between  Clarens  and  Villeneuve,  on  an 
isolated  rock  whose  base  is  laved  by  Leman's 
waters,  which  "  meet  and  flow  a  thousand  feet 
in  depth  below,"  stands  the  grim  prison  of 
Chillon,  the  scene  of  Byron's  poem.  The 
fortress  is  an  irregular  pile  of  masonry,  and, 
with  its  massive  walls,  loop-holed  towers,  and 
white  battlements,  is  a  picturesque  object  seen 
across  wide  reaches  of  the  lake.  The  present 
structure  is  a  hoary  successor  to  a  stronghold 
still  more  ancient :  the  prehistoric  lake-dwellers 
here  had  a  fortress  and  were  succeeded  by  the 
Franks  and  Romans.  Of  the  present  structure, 
the  Romanesque  columns  and  the  range  of  dun- 
geons are  known  to  have  been  in  existence  in 
830,  when  Count  Wala,  a  cousin  of  Charlemagne, 
for  alluding  to  the  wife  of  Louis  the  Debonair 
as  "  that  adulterous  woman,"  was  incarcerated 
here.  Thus  Judith's  reputation  was  vindicated 
and  the  earliest  certain  date  of  this  fortress  fixed. 
The  present  superstructure  remains  unchanged 

•^  '»  -> 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

since  the  thirteenth  century.  It  is  now  con- 
nected with  the  shore  by  a  wooden  structure 
which  spans  the  moat  and  replaces  the  ancient 
drawbridge.  Through  a  massive  gate-way  we 
enter  a  roughly-paved  court,  whence  a  blufF 
Savoyard  conducts  us  through  the  romantic  pile. 
Among  the  apartments  of  the  ducal  family  we 
see  the  banqueting-hall  where  the  dukes  held 
roistering  wassail ;  the  kitchen  on  whose  great 
hearth  oxen  were  roasted  whole  ;  the  Chamber 
of  Inquisition  where  hapless  prisoners  were  tor- 
tured to  extort  confession,  this  room  being  near 
the  chamber  of  the  duchess,  into  which — de- 
spite its  thick  wall — the  shrieks  of  the  tortured 
must  have  sometimes  penetrated  and  disturbed 
Her  Serene  Highness.  Outside  her  door  is  a 
post  to  which  the  wj-etches  were  bound,  and  it  is 
scored  by  marks  of  the  irons  which  cauterized 
their  flesh ;  in  a  near  corner  stood  a  rack  which 
rent  them  limb  from  limb.  The  crypt  beneath, 
with  its  low  arched  vaults  and  its  graceful  pillars 
rising  out  of  the  rock,  is  the  most  interesting 
portion  of  the  fortress.  Referring  to  their 
architectural  perfection,  Longfellow  once  said 
these  were  the  "  most  delightful  dungeons  he  ever 
saw,"  but  as  we  stand  in  their  twilight  gloom 
the  horrors  of  their  history  weigh  heavily  on 
the  heart.  During  this  century  the  castle  has 
been  used  as   an  arsenal,  but  occasionally  also 

*3+ 


Prison  of  Chillon 

as  a  prison,  and  Byron  found  some  of  these 
**  chambers  of  sorrow"  tenanted  at  the  time 
of  his  visits.  One  contracted  cell  is  that  in 
which  the  condemned  passed  their  last  night  of 
life  chained  upon  a  rock,  near  the  beam  upon 
which  they  were  strangled  and  the  opening 
through  which  their  bodies  were  thrust  into  the 
lake.  Another  vault  contains  a  pit  or  well,  with 
a  spiral  stair  down  which  poor  dupes  stepped 
into  a  yawning  depth  and — eternity.  A  third 
chamber,  so  dark  that  its  grotesque  carvings  are 
scarcely  discernible  and  no  missal  could  be  read 
by  daylight,  was  the  chapel  of  the  fortress. 
Traversing  the  succession  of  dungeons,  we  .come 
to  the  last  and  largest,  and  reverently  stand 
beside  the  column  where  Byron's  prisoner  was 
chained.  This  "dungeon  deep  and  old"  lies 
not  beneath  the  level  of  the  lake,  as  Byron 
believed,  yet  it  is  sufficiently  dank  and  dismal  to 
be  the  appropriate  scene  of  the  touching  and 
tragic  story  which  he  located  here.  It  is  a  long, 
crypt-like  apartment,  whose  vaulted  roof  of  rock 
is  upheld  by  the  "  seven  pillars  of  Gothic 
mould"  aligned  along  the  middle.  It  is  dimly 
lighted  by  loop-holes  pierced  in  the  ponderous 
walls  for  the  feudal  bowmen ;  through  these 
narrow  apertures,  where  the  prisoner  "  felt  the 
winter's  spray  wash  through  the  bars  when  winds 
were  high,"  we  look  out,  as  did   he,  upon   the 

Z2S 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

distant  town,  "  the  lake  with  its  white  sails," 
the  "  mountains  high,"  and  the  little  Isle  de  Paix 
— "  scarce  broader  than  the  dungeon  floor" — 
gleaming  like  an  emerald  from  a  setting  of 
amethyst.  Here  is  Bonnivard's  chain,  scarce 
four  feet  long,  and  in  the  central  pillar  the  ring 
which  held  it.  The  light,  falling  aslant 
**  through  the  cleft  of  the  thick  wall"  upon  the 
floor,  shows  us  the  pathway  worn  in  the  rock 
by  the  pacing  of  the  prisoner  during  the  weary 
years,  and  reveals — graven  on  the  column-stone 
by  the  poet's  hand — the  name  Byron. 

At  Chillon  we  are  in  the  midst  of  a  region 
pervaded  by  the  sentiment  of  the  pilgrim-poet. 
The  Byron  path  leads  from  the  shore  to  the 
broad  terraces  of  the  Hotel  Byron,  whence  we 
behold  as  in  a  picture  the  romantic  scene  his 
poetry  portrays, — the  "  mountains  with  their 
thousand  years  of  snow,"  the  shimmering  water 
of  "  the  wide  long  lake,"  the  dark  slopes  of  the 
Juras  terraced  to  their  summits,  the  "  white- 
walled  towns"  upon  the  nearer  hill-sides. 
Directly  before  us — bearing  its  three  tall  trees 
— "  the  little  isle,  the  only  one  in  view,"  smiles 
in  our  faces  from  the  bosom  of  the  water ;  on 
the  right  we  see  sweet  Clarens  and  the  pictu- 
resque battlements  of  Chillon  ;  on  the  left,  the 
glittering  peaks  of  Dent  du  Midi  and  the  Alps 
of  Savoy,  with   the  "  Rhone   in   fullest  flow" 

236 


Rousseau  and  Byron  Scenes 

between  the  rocky  heights ;  while  from  the 
farther  shore  rise  the  clrffs  of  Meillerie,  at 
whose  base  Byron  and  Shelley,  clinging  to  their 
frail  boat,  narrowly  escaped  a  watery  grave  on 
the  very  spot  where  St.  Preux  and  Julia  of 
"  Nouvelle  Heloi'se"  were  rescued  from  the 
same  fate. 

Our  farewell  view  of  this  Land  of  Byron  is 
taken  on  a  cloudless  summer  night,  when  the 
radiance  of  the  harvest  moon  exalts  and  glori- 
fies all  the  scene ;  the  grim  prison  of  Bonnivard 
is  transformed  into  a  snowy  palace  of  peaceful 
delights,  the  white  mountain-peaks  gleam  with 
the  chaste  lustre  of  pearls,  the  vine-embowered 
village  on  the  shore  seems  an  Aidenn  of  purity 
and  light,  and  the  sheen  of  the  tremulous  water 
is  that  of  a  sea  of  molten  silver.  Surely,  on  all 
her  round,  "  Luna  lights  no  spot  more  fair." 


SUTENOBMALSCHOOL 


237 


CHATEAUX  OF  FERNEY  AND 
COPPET 

Voltaire's  Home,  Church,  Study,  Garden,  Relics-Literary 
Court  of  de  Stael-Mementos- Famous  Rooms,  Guests— 
Schlegel-Shelley-Constant-Byron-Da-vy,  etc.-De  StaiTs 
Tomb. 

A  LITERARY  pilgrimage  on  Leman's 
shores  that  did  not  include  Ferney 
among  its  shrines  would  be  obviously  incom- 
plete. No  matter  how  widely  we  may  dissent 
from  his  opinions  or  how  much  we  may  deplore 
some  of  his  utterances,  the  brilliant  philosopher 
who  for  so  many  years  inhabited  that  spot  and 
made  it  the  intellectual  capital  of  the  world 
commands  a  place  in  letters  which  we  may 
neither  gainsay  nor  ignore,  and  the  Chateau 
Voltaire  is  to  many  visitors  one  of  the  chief 
objects  of  interest  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Geneva. 

Beneath  a  summer  sky  a  delightful  jaunt  of  a 
few  miles,  among  orchards  and  vineyards  and 
past  the  ancestral  home  of  Albert  Gallatin, 
brings  us  to  Voltaire's  domain  in  Gex.  The 
mansion  and  town  of  Ferney  were  alike  the 
creation  of  the  genius  loci  ;  he  was  architect  and 
builder  of  both.  The  town  and  its  factories 
were  erected  to  give  shelter  and  employment  to 
hundreds    of    artisans    who    appealed    to    him 

Z3'J 


Voltaire's  Church — Mansion 

against  oppressive  employers  at  Geneva.  The 
place  has  obviously  degenerated  since  his  time ; 
.  an  air  of  shabbiness  and  thriftlessness  prevails, 
and  ancient  smells  by  no  means  suggestive  of 
"  the  odors  of  Araby  the  blest"  obtrude  upon 
the  pilgrim.  At  the  public  fountain  stout-armed 
women  were  washing  family  linen  manifestly 
long  unused  to  such  manipulation.  Near  by 
dwell  descendants  of  Voltaire's  secretary  Wag- 
niere.  Upon  a  verdant  plateau  farther  away, 
in  the  heart  of  one  of  the  most  beautiful  regions 
of  earth,  *'  girdled  by  eighty  leagues  of  moun- 
tains that  pierce  the  sky,"  was  Voltaire's  last 
home.  By  its  gate  is  the  little  church  he  built, 
bearing  upon  its  gable  his  inscription  "  Deo 
Erexit  Voltaire."  Here  he  attended  mass  with 
his  niece,  and,  as  seigneur,  was  always  incensed 
by  the  priest ;  here  he  gave  in  marriage  his 
adopted  daughters ;  here  he  preached  a  homily 
against  theft ;  and  here  he  built  for  himself  a 
tomb,  projecting  into  the  side  of  the  church, — 
**  neither  within  nor  without,"  as  he  explained 
to  a  guest, — where  he  hoped  to  be  buried.  The 
church  was  long  used  as  a  tenement,  later  it  has 
been  a  storage-  and  tool-house.  The  chateau  is 
a  spacious  and  dignified  three-storied  structure 
of  Italian  style,  attractive  in  appearance  and 
well  suited  to  one  of  Voltaire's  tastes  and  occu- 
pations.    The    exterior    has     been    somewhat 

239 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

altered,  but  the  apartments  of  the  philosopher 
are  essentially  unchanged.  The  late  proprietor 
preserved  the  study  and  bedroom  nearly  as  Vol- 
taire left  them  when  he  started  upon  his  fatal 
visit  to  Paris.  They  are  small,  w^ith  high 
ceilings,  quaint  carvings,  faded  tapestries,  and 
are  obviously  planned  to  facilitate  the  w^ork  of 
the  busiest  author  the  world  has  known,  who 
here,  after  the  age  of  threescore,  wrote  a 
hundred  and  sixty  works.  Many  of  these  as- 
sailed the  church  authorities,  who  had  shown 
themselves  capable  of  punishing  mere  difference 
of  opinion  by  the  rack  and  the  stake,  but  "  the 
religion  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  and  the 
character  of  men  of  good  and  consistent  lives" 
they  did  not  attack :  some  of  the  books  were 
cursed  at  Rome,  some  at  Geneva,  others  were 
burned  at  both  places. 

Disposed  in  Voltaire's  rooms  we  have  seen  his 
heavy  furniture  ;  his  study-chair  standing  by  the 
table  upon  which  he  wrote  half  of  each  day ; 
his  beautiful  porcelain  stove,  a  gift  from  Fred- 
erick the  Great ;  a  draped  mausoleum  bearing 
an  inscription  by  Voltaire  and  designed  by  his 
protege  to  contain  his  heart ;  many  paintings 
presented  by  royal  admirers, — Albani's  "  Toilet 
of  Venus,"  Titian's  "  Venus  and  Love,"  a  picture 
of  Voltaire's  chimney-sweep,  portrait  of  Lekain 
who  acted  so  many  of  Voltaire's  tragedies,  por- 

240 


His  Rooms — Furniture 

traits  of  that  philosopher,  a  fanciful  deification 
of  him  by  Duplessis ;  on  the  same  wall,  coarse 
engravings  of  Washington  and  Franklin.  Frank- 
lin was  the  firm  friend  of  Voltaire,  and  it  was  his 
letters  which  first  brought  to  Ferney  news  of 
the  Declaration  of  Independence.  The  dis- 
colored embroidery  of  Voltaire's  bed  and  arm- 
chair was  wrought  by  his  niece  Madame  Denis, 
"  the  little  fat  woman  round  as  a  ball."  Habit- 
ually complaining  of  illness  in  his  last  years,  he 
spent  more  than  half  his  time  in  this  quaint  bed. 
He  had  a  desk,  containing  writing  materials,  sus- 
pended above  the  bed  so  that  he  could  write 
here  day  or  night,  and  the  amount  of  work  he 
thus  accomplished  is  astounding  :  in  the  last  four 
years  of  feeble  life  he  wrote  thirty  works  vary- 
ing in  size  from  a  pamphlet  to  a  ponderous 
tome.  His  breakfast  was  served  in  bed,  and  here 
he  habitually  attended  to  his  correspondence, 
which  included  most  of  the  sovereigns  of  Europe 
and  the  learned  and  great  of  all  climes.  In  this 
bed  he  once  lay  for  weeks  feigning  mortal  illness, 
and  thus  induced  the  priest  to  give  him  the 
viaticum.  This  bedroom,  too,  was  the  scene  of 
many  quarrels  with  his  niece  regarding  her  ex- 
travagances, but  as  we  sit  in  his  chair  by  his 
bedside  we  prefer  to  recall  more  pleasing  inci- 
dents the  room  has  v/itnessed  ;  here  he  dictated 
to  Marie  Corneilie  the  ardent  words  which 
1  241 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

brought  reparation  to  many  a  cruelly  wronged 
family  ;  this  was  the  scene  of  his  many  pleasant- 
ries with  the  house-keeper  "  Baba,"  and  of  the 
loving  ministrations  of  his  sweet  ward  "Belle 
et  Bonne." 

Many  of  Voltaire's  belongings  have  been 
removed  and  his  estate  has  been  shorn  of  its 
vast  dimensions,  but  much  remains  to  remind  us 
of  the  genius  of  the  place.  Here  are  the 
gardens,  lawns,  and  shrubberies  he  planted ;  on 
this  turf-grown  terrace  beneath  his  study  win- 
dows he  paced  as  he  planned  his  compositions, 
and  here,  at  the  age  of  eighty-three,  he  evolved 
"  Irene"  and  parts  of  "  Agathocles ;"  near  by 
are  his  fount,  his  arbored  promenade,  the  shaded 
spot  where  he  wrote  in  summer  days,  the  place 
of  the  lightning-rod  made  for  him  by  Franklin. 
Long  reaches  of  the  hedge  were  rooted  by  him, 
many  of  the  trees  are  from  the  nursery  he  cult- 
ured, the  cedars  were  raised  from  seeds  sent  to 
him  by  the  Empress  Catherine.  A  venerable 
tree  in  the  park  was  planted  by  Voltaire's  own 
hands :  when  we  point  to  a  blemish  upon  its 
trunk  and  ask  our  guide,  whose  family  have 
dwelt  on  the  estate  since  the  time  of  Voltaire, 
if  that  is  the  effect  of  lightning,  as  has  been 
averred,  he  indignantly  declares  the  only  damage 
the  tree  ever  sustained  has  been  from  visitors 
who,  to  secure  souvenirs  of  the  illustrious  phi- 

242 


An  Intellectual  Capital — Reminiscences 

losopher,  would  destroy  the  whole  tree  were  he 
not  alert  to  protect  it. 

For  twenty  years  this  home  of  Voltaire  was 
the  centre  and  pharos  of  the  intellectual  world. 
To  this  court  kings  sent  couriers  with  proffers  of 
honors  and  assurances   of  esteem  ;   hither  came 
legions  of  litterateurs,  academicians,  politicians, 
eager  to  hail  the  savant  or  to  secure  his  commen- 
dation.    "  All  roads  then  led  to  Ferney  as  they 
once  did  to  Rome,"  and  the  hospitalities  of  the 
chateau  were  so  taxed  that  Voltaire  declared  he 
was  innkeeper  for  all  Europe.     He  habitually 
complained   of  the   climate   here,  "  Lapland    in 
winter,  Naples  in  summer  ;"  during  some  seasons 
"  thirty  leagues  of  snow  were  visible  from   his 
windows ;"  but  on  the  July  day  of  our  visit  the 
atmosphere  is  exquisitely  delightful  and  Voltaire's 
"  desert"  seems  a  paradise.     Behind  us  rise  the 
vine-clad  slopes  of  Jura,  below  lies  the  lake  like 
an  amethystine  sea,  afar  gleam  the  snow-crowned 
peaks,  and  about  us  in  the  old  gardens  are  the 
golden    sunshine,    the    incense    of  flowers,   the 
twitter   of  birds,  and   all   the   charm   of   sweet 
summer-time.     As  we  linger  in  the  spots  he  loved 
it  is  pleasant  to  recall  the  good  that  mingled  in 
the  oddly  composite  nature  of  the   daring  old 
man    who    inhabited    this    beautiful    scene    and 
created  much  of  its  beauty  ;  to  remember  that 
dumb  creatures  loved  him  and  fed  from  his  hand  ; 

^43 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

that  the  destitute  and  oppressed  never  vainly- 
applied  to  him  for  succor  or  protection ;  that  in 
varying  phrase  he  solemnly  averred,  in  letters  of 
counsel  to  youthful  admirers  in  his  ow^n  and 
other  lands,  "  We  are  in  the  world  only  for  the 
good  we  can  do." 

Of  the  galaxy  of  litterateurs  who  had  home 
or  haunt  by  Leman's  margins  Madame  de  Stael, 
by  her  long  residence  and  many  incidents  of  her 
career,  seems  most  closely  associated  with  this 
region  of  delights.  The  chateau  of  Coppet 
has  for  two  centuries  belonged  to  her  family  ; 
here  some  portion  of  her  girlhood  was  passed ; 
here  she  found  asylum  from  the  horrors  of  the 
French  Revolution  and  residence  when  Na- 
poleon banished  her  from  his  capital.  Later 
her  son  Auguste  dwelt  here,  and  the  place  is 
now  the  property  of  her  great-granddaughter. 
Literary  and  social  associations  render  this 
medieval  chateau  one  of  the  most  interesting 
spots  on  earth.  Exiled  from  the  society  of 
Paris,  de  Stael  erected  here  a  court  which 
became  the  centre  of  intellectual  Europe.  Cop- 
pet  was  in  itself  a  lustrous  microcosm  whose 
attraction  was  the  conversation  of  its  hostess 
and  queen,  which  allured  the  wit  and  wisdom 
of  a  continent,  making  this  court  not  only  a 
literary  centre,  but  a  political  power  of  which 
Napoleon,  by  his  proscriptions,  proclaimed  his 

244 


Home  of  de  Stael 

fear.  The  great  number  of  illustrious  courtiers 
who  came  to  Coppet  caused  the  priestess  of  its 
hospitalities  to  aver  she  ueeded  "  a  cook  whose 
heels  were  winged." 

The  darkly-verdured  terraces  of  Jura  on  the 
one  hand,  the  blue  waters  and  the  farther  snowy 
peaks  on  the  other,  fitly  environ  the  enchanting 
scene  in  the  midst  of  which  was  set  the  abode 
of  the  greatest  woman  of  her  time.  From 
Geneva  a  charming  sail  along  the  lake  conveys 
us  to  her  home  and  sepulchre.  We  approach 
the  chateau  between  rows  of  venerable  trees 
beneath  which  de  Stael  loitered  with  her 
guests.  The  stately  edifice  rises  from  three 
sides  of  a  court,  whence  we  are  admitted  to  a 
large  hall  on  the  lower  floor  which  she  used  as 
a  theatre.  These  walls,  which  give  back  only 
the  echo  of  our  foot-falls,  have  resounded  with 
the  applause  of  fastidious  auditors  when  the 
queen  of  Coppet,  with  her  children  and  Re- 
camier,  de  Sabran,  Werner,  Jenner,  Constant, 
Von  Vought,  or  Ida  Brun  acted  upon  a  stage  at 
yonder  end  of  the  room.  The  composition  of 
plays  for  this  theatre  was  sometime  de  Stael's 
principal  recreation  :  these  have  been  published 
as  **  Essais  Dramatiques."  But  more  ambitious 
dramas  were  presented ;  the  matchless  Juliette 
acted  here  with  Sabran  and  de  Stael  in  "  Semir- 
amis ;"  Werner  assisted  in  the  first  presentation 

245 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

of  *'  Attila,"  which  was  written  here ;  Con- 
stant's "  Wallenstein"  was  composed  here  and 
first  produced  on  this  stage,  as  was  also  Oehlen- 
schlager's  "  Hakon  Jarl."  De  Stael  was  an 
efficient  actress,  her  lustrous  eyes,  superb  arms, 
and  strong  and  flexible  voice  compensating  for 
deficiencies  of  training.  A  broad  stair  leads 
from  the  silent  theatre  to  the  principal  apart- 
ments, among  which  we  find  the  library  where 
Necker  wrote  his  "  Politics  and  Finance,"  the 
grand  salon  and  reception-rooms, — all  of  impos- 
ing dimensions  and  having  parquetted  floors. 
Arranged  in  these  rooms  are  many  mementos  of 
the  daughter  of  genius  who  once  inhabited 
them, — hangings  of  tapestry ;  antique  spindle- 
legged  furniture  carved  and  gilded  in  quaint 
fashion ;  the  cherub-bedecked  clock  that  stood 
above  her  desk  ;  her  books  and  inkstand ;  the  desk 
upon  which  "  Necker,"  "  Ten  Years  of  Exile," 
**  Allemagne,"  and  many  minor  treatises  were 
written.  Upon  the  wall  is  her  portrait,  by 
David,  which  pictures  her  with  bare  arms  and 
shoulders,  her  head  crowned  by  a  nimbus  of 
yellow  turban  which  she  wore  when  costumed 
as  "  Corinne  :"  the  features  are  not  classical,  but 
the  brunette  face,  with  its  splendid  dark  eyes,  is 
comely  as  well  as  intellectual,  and  obviously 
contradicts  Byron's  declaration,  "  She  is  so  ugly 
I  wonder  how  the  best  intellect  of  France  could 

246 


Memorable  Rooms — Mementos 

have  taken  up  such  a  residence."  Schaffer's 
portrait  of  her  daughter  hangs  near  by,  display- 
ing a  face  of  strilcing  beauty,  and  a  picture  of 
Madame  Necker,  de  Stael's  mother,  represents  a 
sweet-faced  woman  who  smiles  upon  the  visitor 
despite  the  discomfort  of  a  painfully  tight-fitting 
dress  of  white  satin.  Here  also  are  portraits  of 
Necker,  of  de  Stael's  first  husband,  of  her  son 
Auguste,  of  Schlegel,  and  of  other  literary 
confreres,  a  statue  of  her  father,  by  Tieck,  and  a 
bust  of  Rocca,  her  youthful  second  husband. 
The  latter  represents  a  finely-shaped  head  and  a 
winning  face.  Byron  thought  Rocca  notably 
handsome,  and  Frederica  Brun  testified,  "  he  had 
the  most  magnificent  head  I  ever  saw."  He 
was  so  slender  that  one  of  de  Stael's  courtiers 
wondered  "  how  his  many  wounds  found  a 
place  upon  him  :"  these  wounds,  received  in  the 
Peninsula,  won  for  him  the  sympathy  of  de 
Stael,  which  deepened  into  love. 

As  we  wander  through  the  rooms,  waking  the 
echoes  and  viewing  the  souvenirs  of  the  illustri- 
ous dead,  as  we  ponder  their  lives,  their  aims, 
their  works,  it  seems,  amid  the  vivid  associations 
of  the  place,  to  require  no  supernal  effort  of  the 
fancy  to  repeople  it  with  the  brilliant  company 
who  were  wont  to  assemble  here.  Of  these 
apartments,  the  salon,  from  whose  wall  looks 
down  the  portrait  of  Corinna,  will  longest  hold 

247 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

the  pilgrim.  It  was  the  throne-room  of  this 
court :  here  resorted  a  throng  of  the  best  and 
noblest  minds,  litterateurs,  scientists,  men  of 
largest  thought,  of  highest  rank.  Here  Recamier 
was  a  frequent  guest :  yonder  mirror,  with  its 
multipanes  framed  in  gilt  metal,  often  reflected 
her  lovely  face.  In  this  room  she  danced  for 
the  delight  of  de  Stael  her  famous  gavotte, 
which  had  transported  the  beau  monde  of  Paris, 
and  was  rewarded  by  its  celebration  in  "  Co- 
rinne."  Some  who  came  to  this  court  remained 
as  residential  guests  :  for  fifteen  years  Sismondi 
worked  here  upon  his  "  Literature  of  Southern 
Europe,"  etc.  j  here  the  sage  Bonstetten  wrote 
many  of  his  twenty-five  volumes  ;  here  Schlegel, 
the  great  critic  of  his  age,  who  is  commem- 
orated in  "  Corinne"  as  Castel-Forte,  was  installed 
for  twelve  years  and  prepared  his  works  on 
dramatic  literature ;  here  Werner,  author  of 
"  Luther,"  "  Wanda,"  etc.,  wrote  much  of  his 
mystic  poetry ;  here  the  Danish  national  poet 
composed  his  noblest  tragedies,  "  Correggio" 
being  a  souvenir  of  Coppet ;  here  Constant 
penned  many  dramas.  Among  the  frequenters  of 
this  salon  were  Madame  de  Saussure,  famous  for 
her  books  on  education ;  Frederica  Brun,  with 
her  daughter  Ida  who  is  imaged  in  "  Allemagne  ;" 
Sir  Humphry  and  Lady  Davy,  the  latter  being  the 
realization  of  "  Corinne ;"  Madame  de  Kriide- 

248 


Literary  Court  and  Courtiers 

ner,  author  of  "Valerie,"  from  whom  Delphine 
was  mainly  drawn  ;  Barante  the  critic ;  Dumont, 
editor  of  Jeremy  Bentham.  Of  those  who 
came  less  often  were  Cuvier,  Gibbon,  Ritter, 
Lacretelle,  Mirabeau,  Houghton,  Brougham, 
Ampere,  Byron,  Shelley,  Montmorency,  Wy- 
nona,  Tieck,  Miiller,  Candolle,  de  Sergey,  Prince 
Augustus,  and  scores  of  others. 

This  room,  where  that  galaxy  assembled,  has 
witnessed  the  most  wonderful  intellectual  seances 
of  the  century.  We  may  imagine  something 
of  the  brilliancy  of  an  assembly  of  such  minds 
presided  over  by  de  Stael, — what  gayety,  what 
coruscations  of  wit,  what  displays  of  wisdom, 
what  keenness  of  discussion  were  not  possible  to 
such  a  circle  !  For  some  time  religious  tenets 
were  frequently  under  consideration.  Every 
shade  of  belief,  doubt,  and  agnosticism  had  its 
defenders  in  the  company.  Sismondi  was  cor- 
responding with  Channing  of  Boston,  whose 
views  he  espoused,  and  the  arrival  of  each  letter 
caused  the  renewal  of  the  argument  in  which 
de  Stael  was  the  principal  advocate  of  the 
spiritual  motive  of  Christianity  as  against  a 
system  of  mere  well-doing.  All  questions  of 
literature,  art,  ethics,  philosophy,  politics,  were 
considered  here  by  the  most  capable  minds  of 
the  age,  the  discussions  being  oft  prolonged  into 
the  night.     But  that   there    may  be  too  much 

249 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

even  of  a  good  thing  is  naively  confessed  by 
Bonstetten,  one  of  the  lights  of  these  seances,  in 
his  letters  :  "  I  feel  tired  by  surfeit  of  intellect : 
there  is  more  mind  expended  at  Coppet  in  a 
day  than  in  many  countries  in  a  year,  but  I  am 
half  dead."  Scintillant  converse  was  inter- 
spersed with  music  from  the  old  harpsichord  in 
yonder  corner, — touched  by  fingers  that  now  are 
dust, — with  recitations  and  reading  of  MSS.  It 
was  the  habit  of  de  Stael  to  read  to  the  circle, 
for  their  criticism,  what  she  had  written  during 
the  morning,  and  to  discuss  the  subsequent 
chapters.  Guests  who  were  writing  at  the 
chateau  then  read  their  compositions — Bonstet- 
ten's  "Latium"  often  put  the  company  to  sleep — 
and  eagerly  sought  de  Stael's  suggestions ;  "  the 
lesser  lights  were  glad  to  borrow  warmth  and 
lustre  from  the  central  sun."  Chateauvieux 
declares,  "She  formed  my  mental  character; 
for  twenty  years  my  sentiments  were  founded 
upon  hers."  Sismondi  says,  "  She  determined 
my  literary  career  ;  her  good  sense  guided  my 
pen."  Bonstetten,  Schlegel,  Werner,  and  others 
bear  similar  testimony  to  the  value  of  her 
counsel. 

The  place  was  never  more  animated  than  in 
the  last  summer  of  her  life,  when  Byron  and 
Shelley  used  to  cross  the  lake  to  join  the  circle 
in  this  room.     De  Stael  had  met  Byron  in  Lon- 

Z50 


Byron,  Shelley,  etc. 

don  during  the  ephemeral  "  Byron-madness," 
and  now,  in  his  social  exile,  her  doors  were  freely 
open  to  him  :  his  letters  testify  "  she  made  Cop- 
pet  as  agreeable  as  society  and  talent  can  make 
any  place  on  earth."  Here  he  first  saw  *'  Glen- 
arvon,"  a  venomous  attack  upon  him  which 
seems  to  have  served  no  purpose  save  to  illustrate 
the  aphorism  about  "a  woman  scorned,"  its 
authoress  having  been  notoriously  importunate 
for  Byron's  favor,  even  attempting,  it  was  said, 
to  enter  his  apartments  in  male  attire.  In  this 
salon  Mrs.  Hervey,  the  novelist,  feigned  to  faint 
at  Byron's  approach :  from  the  balcony  outside 
these  windows,  where  de  Stael  and  her  father 
stood  and  saw  Napoleon's  army  cross  the  Swiss 
frontier,  Byron  looked  upon  the  scene  which 
inspired  some  of  his  divinest  stanzas.  The 
chSteau  was  a  busy  place  in  those  years :  a  guest 
writes  from  here,  "  In  every  corner  one  is  at 
a  literary  task ;  de  Stael  is  writing  *  Exile,' 
•Auguste  and  Constant  a  tragedy,  Sabran  an  opera, 
Sismondi  his  '  Republics,'  Bonstetten  a  philos- 
ophy, and  Rocca  his  'Spanish  War.'" 

One  noble  chamber  hung  with  dim  tapestries 
is  that  erst  occupied  by  Recamier :  it  had  before 
been  the  sick-room  of  Madame  Necker  and  the 
scene  of  her  husband's  loving  care  of  her,  which 
de  Stael  so  touchingly  records.  The  chamber 
of  de  Stael  is  near  by,  its  windows  overlooking 

251 


A  Literary  Pilgrimage 

her  sepulchre :  here  she  wrote  the  books  which 
made  her  fame  ;  here  she  instructed  her  children, 
their  Sabbath  lessons  being  from  the  devout 
treatises  of  her  father  and  a  Kempis's  "  Imitation 
of  Christ,"  the  book  she  read  in  her  own  dying 
hours.  A  smaller  room,  looking  out  upon  the 
park,  the  terraces  of  Jura,  and  the  white  walls  of 
Lausanne,  was  shared  by  Constant  and  Bonstet- 
ten.  In  the  tower  above  have  been  found  letters 
written  by  Gibbon  to  his  Jiancee,  who  became 
the  mother  of  de  Stael :  they  have  been  pub- 
lished by  the  grandson  of  de  Stael,  and  show  that 
the  conduct  of  the  great  "  Decliner  and  Faller" 
toward  the  then  poor  girl  was  thoroughly  selfish 
and  unscrupulous. 

The  rooms  are  renovated  and  the  place  is 
offered  for  rent,  but  nothing  is  destroyed.  The 
formal  park  at  the  side  of  the  chateau  is  little 
changed :  along  yonder  wooded  aisle  and  upon 
this  allee  between  prim  patches  of  sward  the 
de  Stael  walked  with  her  guests  in  the  summers 
of  long  ago  ;  upon  the  seat  beneath  this  coppice, 
beside  this  placid  pool,  or  on  the  margin  of 
yonder  brooklet  from  the  top  of  Jura,  they 
lingered  in  brilliant  converse  till  the  stars  came 
out  one  by  one  above  the  darkening  mountains. 
These — the  mute,  soulless  inanimates — remain, 
while  the  illustrious  company  that  quickened  and 
glorified  them  all  has  vanished  from  human  ken. 

252 


Tomb  of  Necker  and  de  Stael 

Some  rods  distant  from  the  chSteau,  shaded 
by  a  sombre  grove  and  bounded  by  a  hoary 
wall,  is  the  picturesque  chapel  in  which  Necker 
is  laid  with  his  wife,  to  whose  tomb  he,  for 
many  years,  daily  came  to  pray.  In  the  same 
crypt  the  mortal  part  of  de  Stael  rests  at  his 
feet ;  the  portal  was  walled  up  at  her  burial  and 
eye  hath  not  since  seen  her  sepulchre.  A  stone 
which  marks  the  grave  of  her  son  Auguste,  and 
lies  on  the  threshold  of  that  sealed  portal,  is 
fittingly  inscribed,  **  Why  seek  ye  the  living 
among  the  dead  ?" 

Beyond  the  closed  gate  we  pause  for  a  parting 
view  of  the  scene,  now  flooded  with  sunshine, 
and  as  we  leave  the  place  we  carry  thence  that 
resplendent  vision  embalmed  in  a  memory  that 
will  abide  with  us  forever.  As  I  write  these 
closing  lines  I  see  again  that  summer  sky,  cloud- 
less save  for  the  fleece  floating  above  Jura  like 
that  which  the  bereaved  Necker  fancied  was 
bearing  the  soul  of  his  wife  to  paradise.  I  see 
again  the  glimmering  water ;  the  mountains 
with  their  tiaras  of  snow,  sending  back  the  sun- 
beams from  their  shining  peaks  like  reflections 
from  the  pearly  gates  that  enclose  the  Celestial 
City ;  and,  amid  this  sublime  beauty,  the  gleam- 
ing sycamores  that  sway  above  the  tomb  of 
"  the  incomparable  Corinna." 


'53 


INDEX 


Abbotsford , — Scott, — 1 6 1 . 

Addison,  15,  19,  30,  36,  91. 

Akenside,  16,  25. 

Andersen,  Hans  Christian,  55,  57. 

Annesley  Hall  and  Park,  71-77. 

Aram,  Eugene;   Scenes,  1 11,  144-147. 

Arbuthnot,  16,  36. 

Arnold,  Dr.  and  Matthew,  9a. 

Astell,  Mary,  30. 

Bacon,  21. 

Baillie,  Joanna,  15. 

Barbauld,  Mrs.,  14,  16. 

Besant,  15,  18. 

Bolingbroke,  37. 

Bolton  Abbey,  143. 

Bonnivard,  Francis,  227. 

Bowes,  Dotheboys,  106. 

Braddon,  Miss,  38. 

Brontes,  The,  685   Brussels,   134,  207;   Haworth,  121  j 

Scenes  and  Characters  of  Tales,  121,  124,  126,  127, 

129,  13s,  207-225. 
Brown,  Oliver  Madox,  32. 
Brussels, — Villette, — Brontfe'  Scenes,  207. 
Bulwer, — Eugene  Aram, — 144-147. 
Burns;    AUoway,    181;    Dumfries,  164;    Ellisland,   171; 

Grave,  165  ;  Haunts, — Scenes  of  Poems, — 164,  165, 

166,  170,  171,  178,  181,  196,  200,  205  ;  Heroines, 

185,  190,  194;   Niece,  183. 
Butler,  Samuel,  91. 
Byron;     Annesley,    71;     Coppet,     250;     Harrow,     69; 

Newstead,    80 ;     Leman,  226-237 ;     London,    62 ; 
^55 


Index 

Scenes  of  Poems,  69,  72-77,  80-90,  226,  23a,  2331 

251  ;  Tomb,  70. 
Caine,  Hall,  mentioned,  32. 
Campbell,  66,  68. 
Canning,  64. 
Carlyle,  Birthplace,  162  ;  Homes,  33,  162,  167  j  Sepulchre, 

163. 
Chaucer,  24,  25,  50. 
Chaworth,  Mary  Ann,  71-79. 
Chelsea,  29-37. 
Chillon,  233. 

Clarens, — Rousseau, — 232. 
Coleridge,  19,  106;   Grave,  22  j   Home,  21. 
Collyer,  Robert,  Early  Haunts,  136. 
Colwick  Hall, — Chaworth-Musters, — 78. 
Congreve,  mentioned,  15,  30,  37. 
Constant,  245,  246,  248,  251,  152. 
Cooling, — Great  Expectations, — 57. 
Coppet, — Madame  de  Stael, — 244. 
Coventry, — George  Eliot, — 102. 
Coxwold, — Sterne, — 113. 
Crabbe,  mentioned,  19,  66. 
Craigenputtock, — Carlyle, — 1 67. 
Crockett,  S.  R.,  178. 
Cunningham,  Allan,  164. 

Davy,  Sir  Humphry,  mentioned,  155,  159,  248. 
Denham,  mentioned,  40. 
De  Quincey,  mentioned,  21,  62. 

De  Stael,  159,  228,  230;    Home  and  Sepulchre,  244. 
Dickens,   13,  19,  20,   24,  28,  34,  2305   Gad's  Hill,  495 

Scenes  of  Tales,  18-20,  22,   24-28,  54,  57-61,  64, 

106. 
Donne,  John,  35,  36. 
Dorset, — Shaftesbury, — 15,  36. 

256 


Index 

Dotheboys, — Nicholas  Nickleby, — io6. 
Douglas,  Poet  of  Annie  Laurie,  175-179. 
Du  Maurier,  18,  20. 
Dumfries, — Burns,  — 164. 
Dyer,  91. 

Ecclefechan, — Carlyle, — 1 62. 

Eliot,  George,   31,   143;    Birthplace,  Early  Homes,  93; 
Grave,  23  ;  Scenes  and  Characters  of  Fiction,  93,  95- 

IC3. 
Emerson,  34,  104,  169,  170. 
Erasmus,  mentioned,  36. 
Fairfax,  Edward,  137,  142. 
Falstaff,  50,  55,  56,  58. 
Ferney , — Voltaire, — 23  8 . 
Fields,  James  T.,  55,  59. 
Foston, — Sydney  Smith, — 149. 
Froude,  33. 

Gad's  Hill, — Dickens,  Shakespeare, — 49. 
Gaskell,  Mrs.,  loi,  130,  131,  215,  223. 

Gay>  IS.  30.  33.  34- 
Geneva,  227. 

Gibbon,  39,  63  ;   On  Leman,  231,  232,  249,  252. 
Goldsmith,  mentioned,  18. 
Gray, — Scene  of  Elegy, — 39. 
Hampstead,  Literary,  13. 
Harridan,  Mrs.,  15. 
Harrow, — Byron, — 18,  69. 
Haworth, — The  Brontes, —  1 21. 
Hawthorne,  68,  71,  184. 
Hazlitt,  mentioned,  19,  21,  170. 
Herbert,  George,  36. 
Heslington, — Sydney  Smith, — 148. 
Highgate,  Literary,  21. 

Highland  Mary, — Homes,  Scenes,  Grave, — 195. 
R  257 


Index 

Hogarth,  19. 

Hogg,  mentioned,  161. 

Hood,  mentioned,  19,  68. 

Hook,  Theodore,  26,  37. 

Hunt,  Leigh,  18,  19,  21,  34,  6S. 

Ilkley, — Collyer,  etc., — 137. 

Irving,  Edward,  mentioned,  164,  170. 

Irving,  Washington,  66,  71,  72,  76,  83,  86,  89. 

Jackson,  Helen  Hunt,  mentioned,  184. 

Jeanie  Deans,  167. 

Jeffrey,  Francis,  149,  154,  155,  170. 

Johnson,  Dr.,  15,  18,  25,  34. 

Keats,  15,  16,  19,  25. 

Keighley, — Bronte,  Collyer, — 121,  136. 

Kensal  Green,  Graves  of  Literati,  68. 

Kingsley,  35. 

Kit-Kac  Club,  15. 

Lake  Leman, — Literary  Shrines, — 226-253. 

Lamb,  mentioned,  19,  21. 

Landon,  Letitia  E.,  30. 

Laurie,     Annie,     Birthplace     and      Homes,      172,     176; 

Grave,  177  ;   Song,  180. 
Lausanne, — Gibbon,  Dickens,  etc., — 230. 
Livingstone,  81,  82,  84,  86. 
Loamshire  of  George  Eliot,  93. 
Locke,  36. 

London,  13,  17,  24,  45,  62,  119,  148. 
Longfellow,  alluded  to,  55,  142,  234. 
Macaulay,  64,  155,  158,  159. 
Maclise,  19,  31,  34,  55. 
Mar  veil,  21. 

Maxwelton, — Annie  Laurie, — 173. 
Melrose, — Scott, — 161. 
Miller,  Joaquin,  71,  83. 

258 


Index 

Milton,  39,  228. 

Mitford,  Miss,  mentioned,  30. 

Montagu,  Mary  Wortley,  21,  31,  62. 

Moore,  64,  67. 

Mulock,  Miss,' — John  Halifax  Scenes, — 92. 

Murray,  John, — Drawing-Room, —  66. 

Newburgh, — Sterne, — 118. 

Newstead  Abbey, — Byron, — 80. 

Nidderdale, — Eugene  Aram, — 143. 

Niece  of  Burns,  183  5   quoted,  196,  204. 

Nithsdale, — Burns,  Scott,  Carlyle,— 164. 

Nuneaton, — Milby  of  Eliot, — loi. 

Pepys,  30,  31. 

Pope,  14,  15,  18,  21,  30,  37,  38. 

Porter,  Jane,  39. 

Ramsay,  Allan,  178. 

Richardson,  16,  37. 

Rochester, — Dickens, — 54,  60,  61. 

Rogers,  mentioned,  15,  143. 

Rokeby, — Scott, — 109. 

Rossetti,  23,  229  ;    Home  and  Friends,  31,  32. 

Rousseau,  227;   Scenes  of  Fiction,  232,  233,  237. 

Rugby, — Hughes,  Arnold, — 92. 

Ruskin,  mentioned,  34. 

Schlegel,  248. 

Scott;    Abodes   and    Resorts,    64,    66,    109,    i6i,    172; 

Scenes  and  Characters,  109,  161,  167,  172. 
Shakespeare,  25,  50,  91,  92,  93. 
Shelley,  19,  21  5   Leman,  227,  229,  232,  237,  250. 
Shepperton  Church  and  Parsonage,  98. 
Smith,  Sydney,  68;   Yorkshire  Homes  and  Church,  148. 
Smollett,  30,  33,  34. 
Somervile,  91. 
Somerville,  Mrs.,  29. 

259 


Index 

Southey,  mentioned,  21,  106. 

Southwark,— Chaucer,  Shakespeare,  Dickens,— 24. 

Stanley,  H.  M.,  88,  184. 

Steele,  14,  15,  19,  30,  33,  36. 

Sterne,  345  Grave,  120;  Home  and  Study,  112,  113,  1155 

Resorts,  113,  iiS. 
Stoke-Pogis,  — Gray,— 39. 
Swift,  15,  30,  36,  37. 
Swinburne,  32,  33. 
Tennyson,  33,  39. 
Thackeray,  18,  68,  104,  120. 
Turner,  37,  142,  143. 
Voltaire,  Chateau  and  Study,  238. 
Waller,  39,  46. 
Walpole,  15,  30. 
Walton,  mentioned,  36. 
Watts,  Theodore,  32. 
Wilde,  Oscar,  35. 

Wordsworth,  15,  21,  106,  143,  161. 
Wuthering  Heights,  129. 
York, — Sterne,  etc., — iii. 
Yorkshire  Shrines,  106,  in,  121,  136,  148 


THE    END. 


260 


LITERARY  SHRINES: 

THE    HAUNTS    OF    SOME    FAMOUS    AMERICAN 
AUTHORS. 


By  Theo.  F.  Wolfe,  M.D.,  Ph.D., 

Author  of  "A  Literary   Pilgrimage,"  etc. 


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CONTAINS,  AMONG  OTHERS,  CHAPTERS  TREATING  OF 

CONCORD  :  A  Village  of  Literary  Shrines. 

THE  OLD   MANSE. 

THE   HOMES   OF   EMERSON   AND   ALCOTT. 

HAWTHORNE'S   "'WAYSIDE." 

THE   WALDEN   OF   THOREAU. 

IN   LITERARY   BOSTON. 

OUT  OF  BOSTON  :  Cambridge— Elmwood—Mt. 
Auburn— "  Wayside  Inn"— Brook  Farm — Web- 
ster's Marshfield— Homes  of  Whittier,  Haw- 
thorne's  Salem,  etc. 

IN  BERKSHIRE  WITH  HAWTHORNE:  The 
Graylock  Region— Middle  and  Lower  Berk- 
shire— Haunts  of  Hawthorne,  Th  >reau,  Bryant, 
Melville,  Sedgwick,  Kemble,  Holmes,  Long- 
fellow, etc. 

A  DAY  WITH  THE  GOOD  GRAY  POET. 


Uniform  with   "  A   Literary   Pilgrimage.' 


J.  B.  LippiNcoTT  Company,  Publishers, 

PHILADELPHIA. 


By  Charles  Conrad  Abbott. 


The  Birds  About  Us. 

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Recent  Rambles; 

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for  wild  nature,  and  with  Olive  Thome  Miller  in  his  love 
for  the  birds.  He  writes  without  a  trace  of  affectation,  and 
his  simple,  compact,  yet  polished  style  breathes  of  out-of- 
doors  in  every  line.  City  life  weakens  and  often  destroys 
the  habit  of  country  observation  ;  opportunity,  too,  fails 
the  dweller  in  cities  to  gather  at  first  hand  the  wise  lore 
possessed  by  the  dweller  in  tents ;  and  whatever  sends  a 
whiflF  of  fresh,  pure,  country  air  into  the  city  house,  or 
study,  should  be  esteemed  an  agent  of  intellectual  sanita- 
tion."—.A^ew  York  Churchman. 


J.  B.  LippiNcoTT  Company, 

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By  Anne  Hollingsworth 

Wharton. 


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about  the  belles  of  the  Philadelphia  meschiauza,  who  they 
were,  how  they  dressed,  and  how  they  flirted  with  Major 
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"In  less  skilful  hands  than  those  of  Anne  HoUlings- 
worth  Wharton's,  these  scraps  of  reminiscences  from 
diaries  and  letters  would  prove  but  dry  bones.  But  she  has 
made  them  so  charming  that  it  is  as  if  she  had  taken  dried 
roses  from  an  old  album  and  freshened  them  into  bloom 
and  perfume.  Each  slight  paragraph  from  a  letter  is 
framed  in  historical  sketches  of  local  affairs  or  with  some 
account  of  the  people  who  knew  the  letter  writers,  or  were 
at  least  of  their  date,  and  there  are  pretty  suggestions  as  to 
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Bulletin. 

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This  book  is 


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